


Telepathy Between Hearts

by Jaelijn



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Developing Relationship, Episode Style, Fluff, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Polyamorous Character, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Season/Series 03, Telepathy, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2019-09-21
Packaged: 2020-10-25 10:54:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 27,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20723045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaelijn/pseuds/Jaelijn
Summary: Cally, Avon and Vila go down to investigate an abandoned Federation research station - but a remainder of the experiments has been left behind, and Avon and Vila suddenly find themselves with an unexpected ability, one which is intimately familiar for Cally...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Something a little different! I have been working on this fic for longer than I care to admit, but it is finally here. Enjoy!
> 
> (If you're waiting for my final fic from Rebels and Fools - it's coming too AO3 soon. Meanwhile, hope you like this one!)

_There is telepathy between hearts_.

~ Proverb

* * *

Over the years, in the void left by the lack of telepathic contact, Cally had become quite adapt at sensing strong emotions from her fellow crew members. Avon had always scoffed at her instincts, but even he had to admit that, most of the time, she was right. He hadn’t turned his nose up quite so much anymore recently – not since Auron and since his quest for revenge had backfired so badly, and lately Cally was beginning to hope it wasn’t just because he had been avoiding her.

At any rate, she could feel the unease rolling off him in waves now, even though his face remained carefully blank while he spoke to Tarrant. Avon didn’t like leaving only Dayna and Tarrant on board, Cally knew. However, he had no choice: Vila was needed down on the planet to open the locks that would undoubtedly seal the abandoned research station; no one but Avon himself had any scientific expertise, even if this was outside the field of computer technology; and they needed someone who could handle a gun to watch their backs, and therefore Cally was coming along. Avon had wanted someone less trigger happy than Dayna, which suited Dayna just fine, as there was no promise of action whatsoever, and certainly no sign of Servalan.

Vila was just as uneasy as Avon – but it was the lighter, jittery unease that Cally always felt from him when he was asked to teleport somewhere. It had got marginally worse since Vila’s teleport accidents had begun to accumulate, but Avon had double and triple-checked the teleport systems, and as far as he could tell it was working according to its parameters. At least Vila hadn’t been forced into coming this time, and so Vila’s nervousness was nothing out of the ordinary. Cally found it easy enough to blank out.

She had to confess to a certain disquiet of her own – after all, the last time the three of them had teleported somewhere, an alien entity had nearly killed her and condemned the rest of the crew to a lifetime of servitude. It had come as a surprise – not an unpleasant surprise, but a surprise nonetheless – that Avon didn’t seem to hold her accountable in any way.

She laid her hand briefly on Avon’s arm as he went to pick up a teleport bracelet, and he gave her a grim stare, but didn’t say anything. They stepped into the alcove as one, joining the waiting Vila, and Dayna operated the teleport.

Of all the planets Cally had seen, Gamma Trios was hardly the most unfriendly. They arrived in a zone covered in low sloping hills of stark green grass, where the climate was mild and the air dry. They barely paused to observe the scenery. Vila had already spotted the airlock to the research hub and was soon at work on the lock, while Avon leant against the wall beside him, half an eye on their surroundings and half an eye on Vila. Cally swept the area with her eyes, but there was nothing out here – no movement apart from a slight rustling of the grass in gentle winds.

“Aha!” Vila exclaimed suddenly, startling Avon out of his almost relaxed contemplation, though he was quick to cover it up with a scowl.

The airlock door slid aside.

Vila just grinned and indicated the open door with a flourish. “After you.”

Avon readjusted his grip on his gun and carefully edged his way inside. Vila stuck close to him, and, with a final look at the quiet landscape, Cally followed them. The outer door closed behind them, sealing them in the small airlock. Vila was already working on the second door, until, suddenly, he sprang back with a cry of pain.

Vila fell against Avon, who caught him clumsily. Cally brought her gun to bear.

“What the hell, Vila?!”

Vila sucked on his fingers and waved at the door with his other hand, still clasped around his lockpicking tools. “There’s a force field or something!”

“What did you do?”

“Nothing! It’s nothing to do with the lock, Avon!”

Avon brushed Vila to the side and reached out his hand carefully towards the door. Less than a fingerbreadth before it, there was a spark of light and Avon withdrew his hand hastily.

“See!” Vila exclaimed, vindicated.

Cally ignored their squabbling and reached out towards the outer door, only to encounter the same sharp burst of energy with her fingertips. “Avon,” she said, “it’s all around us.”

Vila’s face fell. “Oh no.”

Avon bared his teeth, holstered his gun and tried the outer door for himself, to the same result. There was no way out.

Cally felt a thrill of fear from Vila.

“Should we shoot at it?” she suggested.

“Don’t be stupid–” Avon began.

“– it’s an energy field, it’ll just throw the pulse back at you!” Vila finished, then suddenly his expression brightened. “Hang on, I have my fine beam lance in the kit…” He immediately bent to rummage around in the box with his tools.

Suddenly, there was a bright flare of light.

Cally felt strong bursts of surprise from both men, and then suddenly _noise _and _pain_!

“Cally! Cally!”

She came to herself kneeling on the floor, Avon crouched before her and Vila hovering behind his shoulder, his face worried.

“Are you all right?” Avon asked, and she was almost surprised that he had asked outright at all.

“I’m all right, Avon,” she said and allowed him to pull her to her feet.

“He didn’t ask, did he? My hearing must be going…” came from Vila, and Cally looked over at him in surprise, finding nothing but quiet concern on his face.

“A little confused, is all,” she continued, shaking her head.

Avon had already moved away and was examining the interior door. “The force field is down.” He waved his hand across the lock, and the door swung aside. “And now the door opens.” He drew his weapon again, looking through the opening.

“What do you suppose it was?” Vila asked, stepping to his side.

“A quarantine field, maybe. Let’s get what we came here for and get out.”

Vila turned to gather up his tools. “I like that. If this had been Blake’s mission, Avon would be calling for teleport now…”

Cally stared at Vila’s back, then at Avon, who waited in the doorway, but Avon’s face showed no reaction to Vila’s words at all.

“Avon” she said, and Avon looked over at her, “do you think it is wise to stay? There might be side effects or more traps.”

She felt a sharp flare of alarm and surprise from Vila, and, “She agrees with me!”

This time, Avon’s head turned to Vila, too. “What is that supposed to mean?” he snapped at the thief, still crouched over his tools with his back turned to them. When Vila didn’t react, Avon barked his name, startling him into dropping a probe and spinning around.

“You’re talking to me? But I didn’t say anything!”

“Oh, of course not,” Avon said – only Cally had been watching his face this time. Avon’s lips hadn’t moved until they curled into one of Avon’s not-smiles. “Let’s just get on with it.”

Cally reached out and caught his arm. “Avon!”

The message she received then was indistinct, a reaction that she wasn’t quite able to interpret rather than a conscious thought, but it cemented her suspicion, as did Vila’s gasp coming from behind her.

“What is it now?” Avon asked, sounding annoyed.

“You’re sending. You are both sending – and receiving!” Cally said, dropping her hand. She couldn’t quite hide her delight, despite her worry.

_What_, from Avon, though his face remained blank and his lips unmoving.

_Telepathy? _Vila asked and then out loud, “Telepathy?”

Cally watched the realisation dawn in Avon’s gaze, followed swiftly by dismay and an instant _No_ that he had no chance to supress before it reached them both. Avon pulled away from her, retreating into the doorway. “Not just a quarantine field, then. And there is no need to repeat ourselves, Vila,” he said, out loud, aiming for nonchalant. 

_Smug bastard_, Vila thought, and Cally watched with amusement as Vila’s face fell in abject terror and Avon’s, surprise over surprise, shifted suddenly with a real smile.

“So I’ve been told,” Avon remarked dryly, but there was no hiding his amusement now. Their thoughts, their presence was getting louder, clearer, more distinct – more alive, though Cally chided herself for that thought. She knew that her non-telepathic companions were just as alive as she was. After all, the older generation on Auron couldn’t send, either – she had never doubted their reality, the reality of the people who had developed and built the cloning facilities that had been the birthplace of her sister group. But especially living for so long amongst humans, she had never been able to shake the feeling that those people with whom she could connect telepathically were realer.

“How come we can’t hear you, Cally?” Vila asked, having apparently got over his mortified shock in the wake of Avon’s mild reaction.

“That will be because I have learned to shield my thoughts when I was a child. I can speak to you if and when I choose.” As she had always done – only now, now they would be able to speak to her, too.

“Yes, well. We can stand around chatting or we can get this mission over with, and find a way to reverse whatever happened,” Avon said.

_It needn’t be dangerous, Avon_, Cally told him.

_No, but I don’t like it_. It was evident that Avon hadn’t meant to share that thought – his expression darkened, eyes filling with ice. He pivoted without another word and strode from the door.

_Aww, don’t worry, Avon_, Vila sent, and Cally marvelled at the ease with which he already seemed to command this new skill. Avon had yet to deliberately project a thought, and Vila was already doing it with the ease of an Auron – yes, he shielded inadequately, and thoughts he had not meant to share slipped out, but he was also already using the telepathy as an extension of his voiced speech. Of course, amongst the telepathic Auronar, it was generally considered to be the other way around – oral speech was a poor extension of telepathy.

_We still think of you as a tough space farer_, Vila went on, and Cally sensed Avon’s reaction again – no thoughts, another vague sensation, and she wondered whether that was Avon’s way to think, or whether it was a kind of natural shield that blocked them from hearing more of his thoughts – but how should Avon have learned to shield, if he had never been telepathic before? At any rate, the sensation was tinged with just the slightest trace of amusement, which made Cally smile.

Vila nudged her with his elbow as they hurried after Avon and grinned.

The computer central was easy enough to locate – the research station only consisted of the former staff’s cabins, a common room that doubled as a kitchen, a storage space and two laboratories. They found no more traps or locked doors, and soon all Cally and Vila had to do was stand by the computer while Avon transferred the entire database – or what was left of it on the computers when the station was abandoned – to datacubes for restoration and decryption on the _Liberator_.

“Do you think they meant for the telepathy to make them work better together?” Vila asked as he was leaning against the console by Avon’s side. Cally had lingered by the door, just in case they had company, after all.

“It can’t have gone too well, if the research was abandoned,” she observed.

“Or it went _too _well,” Avon said grimly. “Cally – if this doesn’t fade when we teleport out, will the others be able to hear us?”

There was an instant _No! _from Vila, and Avon’s expression darkened with it. He obviously felt the same way.

“I can’t know for certain. I never heard of telepathy being induced in humans – but it’s unlikely, unless you send to them deliberately. I am sensitive to the faintest of messages because I’m a telepath, and so is Vila at the moment. My instinct is to expect to receive a message.” She thought of how much strain it put on her ability to make the others hear her, how unreliable her skill was with them even over smaller distances that had never troubled her with a fellow Auron. At first, she had thought she was merely out of practice, but over the years she had come to realise that it was more than that.

“And Tarrant and Dayna aren’t like that,” Vila said.

Cally nodded; Vila was doubly right – neither Dayna nor Tarrant were telepathic, and she had found both always difficult to reach, herself. A lack of familiarity, no doubt, that didn’t hinder her with Avon and Vila.

_But you do send to us_, Avon thought, and she wasn’t quite sure whether he meant for them to hear. His attention was, outwardly, back on the data transfer. He entered something into the console. She decided not to answer, not to explain the tediousness of sending to non-telepaths.

“Cally’ll teach us how to shield – won’t you?” Vila asked.

She nodded. “Of course, if I am able – Auronar techniques might not work for humans.”

“Let’s find out first whether that field caused us any harm,” Avon said sharply and behind it, even as he was speaking, they could hear him, sense the revulsion he felt at the idea of being telepathic.

Cally remembered his words on the flight deck, harsh, sarcastic and cynic: _Telepathic communion is a wonderful thing_.

“I didn’t even think of that,” Vila cut in. “My brain wasn’t made to do this, was it? Avon?”

“_Your_ brain wasn’t made to do anything.” Avon powered down the computer with a flourish, gathered up the data cubes in his hand and turned to Vila with a sharp grin. “Don’t worry, Vila – after all, the researchers were still able to leave.”

Cally almost expected the strange effect to fade once they had been teleported up to the _Liberator_, but even as the beam took them, she could hear Avon, sharp and clear: _Not a word to Tarrant and Dayna_.

Once on board, she was bombarded by a confused jumble of thoughts from Vila about how he couldn’t control when and what he was thinking that made Avon grimace – but brought no reaction from Dayna at the teleport.

“All quiet?” she asked.

“There was a quarantine field,” Cally said, before Avon could. “We will head down to the medical unit to make sure we haven’t been infected with anything.”

“All right. Do you need me?”

“No,” Avon said. “I want you back on the flight deck. We’ll manage.”

“Bring Orac down, though, would you?” Vila added, earning himself a glare from Avon. _What? We might need the rat in a box. He knows about telepathy. _

_It_, Avon corrected instantly, and Cally saw a muscle in his jaw twitch. “Yes. Orac might be… useful,” he told Dayna, who nodded and hurried away.

_Vila was right, Avon_, Cally told him once she was gone.

This time, the confused jumble came from Avon, and there was darkness and fear and bitterness and the tiniest speck of appreciation, and it was too much, too loud at once.

Vila groaned. “It’s getting worse!”

It was. She could almost hear both of them now, at all times, as if their ability was becoming more established and their lack of shielding more concerning – if it wasn’t fully articulated thoughts, it was snatches, impressions, fragments of feeling and memories and half-thoughts, building to a crescendo.

_Enough! _“Enough!” Avon’s voice cut through the chaos, and the teleport bay came back into focus before Cally’s eyes. “We need to be in the medical unit. Now.”

They waited for Dayna to drop Orac off before they began any real examination, even though by then Avon sat bent over on one of the beds with a blinding headache that – thankfully – had silenced all other sending from him, though the pain was difficult to ignore after so long without sharing her siblings’ sensations. Vila had self-medicated with a small glass of soma, which had slowed the onslaught of his thoughts at least so far that Cally could move about the medical unit without it overwhelming her other senses. It would be good to teach them to shield, if only to revisit the techniques for herself after she had gone so long without really needing them.

“One would think,” Avon ground out after Dayna had gone, “that _you _wouldn’t find it so difficult not to think.”

“See, goes to show that I have a brain, after all, and you, Kerr Avon, were wrong,” Vila shot back immediately, and for a moment the constant _hurt _from Avon faded a little.

“Lie back,” Cally told Avon, who obeyed, allowing her to swing the diagnostic device over his head.

She felt a flash of unease – almost fear – at that from both men and looked up at Vila in surprise, knowing that Avon would resent having been heard more. “Vila? Is everything all right?”

Vila set down his glass. “Yeah. Just that scanner looks a little like one of those Federation torture machines, is all. Don’t supposed they used quite one of those on you, back when…” He trailed off, clearly uncomfortable.

“Just get on with it,” came Avon’s weary voice and Cally went back to work, connecting Orac directly to the medical computers for a faster analysis.

“Fascinating,” Orac volunteered without needing to be prompted. “All areas of the brain have been stimulated. There is a higher rate of activity than is common in humans.”

“Is it higher than _common_ for me?” Avon snarled.

“You are human,” Cally chided him – out loud in respect for his headache.

“Not what I meant. Well, Orac?”

“I have taken individual variance into consideration,” Orac declared, sounding almost affronted.

“Is it harmful?” Vila asked.

“The human brain is capable of adjusting to the increased stimulus. There should be no harm in the alteration of brain function,” Orac snapped, then continued, almost eager: “It is very like Auron telepathy. Presumably it was modelled after the same.” That, Cally thought, explained why she found it so easy to receive them.

Vila’s relief was profound, but there was no such sensation from Avon. “Will it fade?” Avon asked.

“That is unlikely,” Orac declared brightly.

_Oh no_.

Cally couldn’t be sure which of the two had sent it. “How can it be managed, Orac?” she asked.

“I suggest the same training that children on Auron receive to manage their telepathic abilities. This is really a remarkable opportunity for research. The capacity for telepathy in humans has never been proven.”

“Evidently the Federation is a step ahead of you,” Avon said, pushing the sensor aside and sitting up. “Why is there no information about this on the records?”

“Do you want me to find out?”

“Yes. And find out what happened to the staff stationed here, too, and whether there are any means of reversing… whatever caused this.” Avon pushed off the bed.

_Where are you going? _Cally asked.

“To my room, to take a sleeping pill. I can’t see myself getting any sleep otherwise, under the circumstances,” Avon said with a grimace, “and I don’t particularly want to join Vila in getting blind drunk.”

Vila only gave a token thought of protest, and Cally realised that Avon had been more adapt at interpreting a half-formed idea that she, too, had picked up from the thief.

_I will have to teach you to shield – self-medicating isn’t a solution_, Cally told them.

_Will you teach us to shield us from receiving thoughts as well? _Avon thought and again Cally wasn’t sure whether he had meant for the thought to be heard. “Tomorrow,” he said, out loud.

“What if it gets worse in the meantime and Dayna and Tarrant’ll hear us?” Vila asked.

“Orac!?”

“What is it now?” the machine replied fussily.

“Is there any chance of us being able to send to non-telepaths?”

“There is insufficient data. As the ability is analogue to what has been observed in the Auronar, there is the possibility. However, the differences of the human brain might have an influence.”

There was a wave of terrible fatigue from Avon that made Cally grasp for the edge of the examination bed. She’d had no idea how tired he truly was and almost regretted attempting to keep him up. She kept her worry carefully shielded, knowing that it would be unwelcome.

Avon sat back down. “Very well, Cally. Teach us.”

She spent the next hour going over the techniques she had been taught as a child, feeling silly as she showed the two men the games the Auronar had used to teach those techniques. They were for children, and she was keenly aware that they were hardly appropriate for adults, as much as she enjoyed revisiting what, to her, where pleasant memories of childhood games. However, Vila seemed to delight in them, too – _Like magic tricks!_ If Avon had any derisive comments like she would have expected of him, he didn’t share them, not even involuntarily. Vila’s enthusiasm and Avon’s silence made it easier, or at least a little less awkward, to have them think of an object in the room and have the other attempt to catch any involuntary sendings about the object.

They hit a stumbling block in the game, however, when Avon proved unfailingly correct in guessing Vila’s objects, despite Vila’s best efforts – despite the fact that _Cally _hadn’t picked up anything from him.

“I’m getting tired of this,” Vila complained. “Why can’t it be Avon’s turn to shield, now?”

“You _both_ need to learn to shield, Vila,” Cally explained again, puzzled over Avon’s ease at reading Vila when she could have sworn that he was shielding perfectly. “Evidently the connection between both of you is stronger – it makes sense, you are members of the same species.”

_Hardly_, Avon thought, and Vila made a face at him, at which Avon merely grinned.

“I can’t even tell whether he means for us to hear that or not,” Vila said. “Wouldn’t put it past him.”

Cally, too, was becoming increasingly confused by Avon’s sending. Sometimes it was clearly accidental, at other times she was unable to tell whether he had sent purposefully or not. She was beginning to think that the latter _was _Avon’s brand of purposeful sending, and that in helping Vila, he had picked up the shielding techniques, himself.

“Relax, Vila. Your shielding is fine,” Avon said now, stretching his back, “your lying, however, isn’t.”

Vila’s expression sped through surprise to affront. “You! You’ve been sitting there enjoying making a fool of me! What happened to wanting to go to bed?”

Avon stood. “Well, I think we have established that _both_ our shielding will do, for now, so I do intend to head to bed now. Do you have any further objections, Cally?”

Astonished, Cally pushed to her feet, as well. “There are more techniques that you will need to learn, but if you are confident you have understood this one, it should be enough for now.” _How were you able to tell? _she asked Avon.

He raised an eyebrow in response. _You rely on telepathy too much, Cally_, he answered, and a quick glance at Vila told her that he hadn’t been aware of the conversation.

Avon had followed her gaze and smiled, having proven his point.

The next time Cally saw either of them was when she met Avon in the corridor on her way to the flight deck the next day. _Avon! How do you feel?_

“I’m fine,” he said, aloud, and for a moment Cally thought that the effects of the field had faded, and that their telepathy was gone – only then Avon’s mind brushed against hers briefly, wordlessly, but doubtless intentionally, and she knew that it hadn’t. She was pleasantly surprised at the touch – so familiar, so like a fellow Auron, but unmistakably Avon.

Avon gave her the briefest of smiles and fell in step with her, coming along to the flight deck where Cally was to relieve Vila from watch. Vila unhurriedly swung his legs down from the console at Avon’s disproving glance and made space for her, moving down to his customary place at the weapons.

“All yours, Cally,” he said, sounding relaxed and at ease. Cally couldn’t catch any impressions from him, either, but even that lack was reassuring – if Vila had been unwell, she would have known.

Avon had moved to his own console wordlessly, and they settled down happily, at ease in each other’s company even if it passed in silence. Cally saw Avon glare at Vila occasionally and wondered what Vila was telling him – but they didn’t include her in the conversation, and Vila seemed to fail to goad Avon into a verbal response. A few minutes into the watch, Dayna came hurrying up onto the flight deck, to consult Avon on a new weapon she was working on. They moved to the front of the flight deck, away from the delicate equipment, where soon the weapon was lying on a desk, with Avon poking at it with a probe.

“I can’t figure out what’s gone wrong with it! It must be something with the _Liberator _materials that I’ve used; it should be working,” Dayna said, looking on in frustration.

Avon just hummed.

_Such lovely legs_, came Vila’s voice in Cally’s head, and she looked towards him, a habitual reprimand on her tongue – only she found him staring not at Dayna, as she had assumed – Dayna, who was half-hidden behind Avon, anyway – but at _Avon_, who was wearing his usual dark and close-fitted trousers and high boots that Cally herself had been admiring.

_Vila? Are you shielding? _she asked, worried that he might not have intended to share the thought.

Vila looked towards her, and his smirk told her all she needed to know. _Don’t worry, Cally_, he sent, _you’ve lovely legs, too. _

Avon cleared his throat. “You were saying, Dayna?”

“Just that I can’t think what I’m supposed to have done wrong.”

_Lovely bum, too_.

Avon fumbled with his probe, nearly dropping it.

_Vila! _Cally chided, but she couldn’t hide her amusement.

“Avon, are you all right?” Dayna asked.

“Fine,” Avon bit out through his teeth. “The _Liberator_ doesn’t synthesise faulty components – you must have created a short-circuit somewhere,” he continued, sounding strangely hurried. Cally found it almost endearing. “There’s a circuit-tracer in the tool kit I gave you, you should be able to find the fault with that. After all, you’re the expert.”

“Thanks,” Dayna replied dryly, clearly not missing the hint of sarcasm in Avon’s words – but Cally could see that it had been calculated to distract her from the oddness of Avon’s behaviour – not that _that _was any fault of Avon’s – and it had worked. Dayna’s faint expression of concern had vanished into determination. She picked up the weapon again and made her way to the flight deck exit, pausing only for a moment on the steps. “Call me when it’s time for my watch!”

Avon just nodded. As soon as she was out of earshot, he spun around to Vila and Cally. His glare settled firmly on Vila, who grinned insouciantly back.

_Do you really want to play this game, Vila? _Avon sent, a dangerous edge to his mental voice, though Cally knew him too well not to note the playfulness under it.

Vila’s grin faltered just slightly. “Now, come on, Avon…”

“I could make you scrub the hull – from the outside,” Avon shot back with a teeth-baring grin of his own, leaning against the shield generator.

“It’s self-cleaning!” Vila protested.

“Oh, but it might give you a chance to appreciate the view, since you seem to be missing out on that activity.”

Vila stared at him, and Cally knew that he had sent – but not what he had said. Only that, after a moment, Avon inclined his head, and Vila scrambled from his chair, rushing off the flight deck.

Avon’s gaze rose again to meet hers. _Well? _

_You seem to cope well with telepathy. _

Avon shrugged. _We have both consulted Orac for some additional techniques._

She sensed a touch of unease – something Avon had found in his research hadn’t been to his liking.

_It’s a distraction_, Avon sent. _As Vila just demonstrated. _

Not entirely sure what prompted her to say it, Cally remarked, _You know he wasn’t talking about Dayna._

Avon met her gaze levelly. _Yes, I know._

_Does it bother you? _

_Should it? _

_I was… given the impression that society on Earth was opinionated about these things_.

Avon shrugged. “Perhaps. I find it nonsensical to concern myself with traits of other people that do not concern me.”

Cally was surprised to hear him speak out loud – and wondered whether he was concealing something from her. _You cannot lie through telepathy, Avon_.

He gave her one of his smiles that she could best categorise as harmlessly devious – perhaps _mischievous_ was the right word. _Oh, I know_. “Fortunately, I do not have to rely on telepathy to communicate.” He picked up the probe he had used to examine Dayna’s prototype. “Will you be all right on watch?”

“Of course,” she replied, accepting that he wouldn’t say anything else. “I’ll contact Dayna when I need a break.”

“Good.”

Cally watched him leave, appreciating the glimpses of character she could see in every one of his movements, and wishing, distantly, that their conversation had been longer.

She had been on watch for maybe an hour, when, clear as a bell, Vila’s voice sounded in her head. She was glad to hear him – she had always appreciated Vila’s liveliness in the loneliness of her isolation, and after the unexpected pleasure of real telepathic contact, she had found the silence harder to bear. But the morning’s silence had also told her clearly that there was no faulting the humans’ effort at shielding, proving them both fast learners, for all that Vila enjoyed pretending otherwise. If she could hear Vila now, it was either because he had been too startled to shield or because he had deliberately sent to her. He had sounded… agitated, but not afraid: _What of it? All ladies like compliments; you should try it sometime!_

It didn’t sound as though he was talking to her – which meant his conversation partner had to be Avon, but Cally heard no response.

_And why not? She might… you know. Want to give it a go. I wouldn’t mind._

Again, Cally wasn’t privy to Avon’s response and she wondered why Vila had wanted her to hear. She had the feeling that they were talking about her, but…

_I know you’ve been looking, too, Avon! At this rate, you’ll never ask Cally out! _

Cally breathed a quiet “Oh” into the silent flight deck. She had sensed _something _from Avon for a while now, something that, in an Auron, she would have interpreted as romantic interest, but she had stopped jumping to conclusions regarding the humans she lived with long ago. She knew enough to know that Avon’s interest, if that was what she had perceived, was different, perhaps more honest than Vila’s occasionally playful advances, but Avon was different in many things. When she had first met him, she had sensed something from Avon – and afterwards had found him cold, forbidding, which she had found intriguing. She had never met a human who, willingly, shared even less than was common for his species, which was social despite its biological limitations. Over the time, she had welcomed Avon as steadfast and stable, where the others were often confusing and erratic. Still, with Avon in particular, she thought it wise not to push the issue. It wasn’t that she would have been disinclined – she had appreciated their increasing closeness, but after the incident with Anna and after Auron and the alien, she thought it better to let Avon come to her in his own time. In the meantime, she would offer her friendship, as she had always done.

There was a pause in the telepathic conversation she was overhearing – a real pause, Cally thought, for a moment later Avon’s voice sounded in her head.

_You have been sending to Cally. _

Cally found it difficult to interpret Avon’s tone – it sounded angry, yes, but he had evidently made a choice to have her hear him, too. Still, under it all, Cally thought she could also detect a tinge of hurt and it made her want to reassure him, tell him that she hadn’t heard or that she would forget what she had heard – but how could she?

_Yes! _Vila sent. _It’s not fair to her! And you’d never make a move! _

_Vila, shut up! _

_I’m not saying anything, see, mouth closed. Avon, you’re in love with her! _

Abruptly, there was silence. Cally waited, tentatively probing for either of their voices, but heard nothing. After a while, she reached out, carefully. _Avon? _

There was no response. She wasn’t surprised that he would ignore her – he had done so before and for less reason.

_Vila? _

When Vila didn’t respond either, Cally grew concerned. “Zen. Where is Vila?”

“That information is not available.”

Which meant that Vila was on board and in one of the crew rooms, which Zen would not identify except in emergency situations. Cally called Dayna up to the flight deck to take over the watch and headed down to Vila’s cabin. She could hear their voices as she neared the corridor, arguing at the door of Avon’s cabin right next to Vila’s. Now that she was reassured that they were both physically fine, Cally slowed to a stop, unwilling to intrude more than Vila had already invited her to.

“It’s a moot point, anyway,” Avon said, level and curiously bland tones cutting through Vila’s agitation. “I don’t think she will approve.”

There was a marked silence, then Vila sighed. “Oh.”

“Yes.”

“I didn’t think about that.”

“Evidently.”

“Avon, I’m sorry. But don’t you… do you…?”

“No, Vila,” Avon said, his voice so soft that it took Cally by surprise. He had spoken to her like this, before, when they were alone, but she had no idea that Vila had seen this side of Avon, too. “We should get some sleep.”

“Yeah.” Vila sounded subdued, sad – Cally was sure she had missed something, that some context or aspect of their conversation had escaped her, despite all she had heard.

She left them without announcing her presence, retreating to eat and then join Dayna on the flight deck. While she was preparing her food, she felt Vila’s tentative touch to her mind.

_I’m sorry, Cally. Don’t be mad. Not at Avon, either. _

_I’m not mad_, Cally told him, and restrained herself from probing further, though she_ was_, undeniably, curious.

Much later, when she arrived at the kitchen in search of an evening meal, she met Avon at the door – clearly coming to eat himself. Vila wasn’t with him.

Avon gave her a small smile in greeting that looked somehow sad – it was strange that now that they were both telepaths, she should find Vila and him more incomprehensible than they had been before. Avon didn’t start a conversation and she let him be until he joined her at the table, signalling that he wasn’t entirely adverse to her company.

“How do you feel, Avon?”

He shrugged. “The shielding works fine. The ability is still there. I have Orac looking into it, but there have been no results, so far,” he answered, sounding distant, like an employee delivering a report.

“You are not angry at Vila?”

He glanced up briefly. “No. I should have seen it coming. You…” he trailed off, but Cally guessed what he was trying to say.

_I shall treat it as any involuntary sending, and ignore it. _

_Thank you. _

He sounded so relieved that Cally reached out to touch his hand. “I have sensed a… potential between us, Avon, but I will not pressure you.”

Avon’s lips twitched into a crooked grin and he drew his hand back. “Well, I don’t suppose you could find it in yourself to love Tarrant.”

Startled by his sudden humour, Cally laughed. “No, indeed.”

“You might have been a tempering influence. What about Dayna?”

“I like her, but my feelings aren’t what I would consider a basis for a relationship in the sense you mean it.”

Avon nodded. His smile faded a little. “And Vila?”

_Vila? _Cally thought about it, and found that she could not give the answer as readily as about the others – probably because she had known Vila for so much longer. “Truthfully, I haven’t given it any thought. I do love Vila – as a comrade, as a sibling, perhaps. As I also love you.”

Avon nodded. “In addition to the… potential, of course.”

“Yes. Why do you ask?”

“Well now, if we were discussing potential partners…” Avon speared a piece of pasta with his fork, his smile shifting to something less friendly. “I wish Jenna happiness with Blake, wherever they are.”

“We _will _find them. Eventually.”

“Oh yes, eventually.” With that, Avon lapsed into silence, and Cally focussed on her own meal.

She had often wondered whether, maybe, there had been something between Blake and Avon – but she had detected no jealousy over Jenna’s openly displayed affection for their leader. That, at least, she had _known_ to be grounded in clear interest on Jenna’s part. If they had ever acted on it, though, Jenna hadn’t confided as much to Cally. At any rate, even now that they had been without Blake for a good while, Avon didn’t strike her as a mourning lover, not for Blake, at any rate. She knew he missed Blake, as a companion and friend, as much as he tried to hide it, but if it had ever been more, Avon was hiding it exceptionally well.

As for herself, she had always believed that there was much to be gained from being upfront about such feelings – that she hadn’t yet mentioned her own to Avon had more to do with their circumstances than with any other barriers. She was almost grateful that Vila had pushed her to speak the words – now, at least, the conversation had begun. Whether Avon chose to act on the feelings Vila had claimed he had would be up to him.


	2. Chapter 2

For over a day, nothing further happened. Vila seemed to be avoiding her a little – when she saw him on the flight deck, she got a sense of embarrassment and sadness. She wondered at the sadness which seemed to mute even Vila and Avon’s habitual bickering, but the embarrassment was no surprise. She decided that, perhaps, she had misunderstood something – or that, perhaps, Vila was concerned that his overstepping had harmed his friendship with Avon. She resolved to put the matter from her mind, even as she picked up random bursts of regret from Avon, too – but neither of them was a stranger to regret, these days, and she had sensed it from Avon frequently lately. There was no reason to assume that it was anything else than what had happened with Anna Grant. As for the telepathy, it was clearly still there, but Orac had assured her that there was no danger to either of them, and that Orac was working on finding a solution. She wouldn’t have minded additional telepaths on board the _Liberator_, but she knew that Avon would feel happier with the ability gone.

Truly, there was little use for it if they meant to conceal it from Dayna and Tarrant indefinitely and while they were travelling aimlessly, except that Cally found it less tedious than spoken communication. Even the occasionally brushes of their minds had gone a long way to lift her loneliness. Selfishly, Cally wished that they would chose to keep the ability, given the choice, now that it was under control – but she would not force them. She had coped with the isolation before, and she would be able to do so again, and cherish the chance to have experienced it for however long it lasted.

It was in the early morning hours that she was startled from her meditation by a bright, brilliant flare of sensation from Vila, so strong and so alien to anything she had received from him before that she was instantly alarmed. She reached out to him, but received no response, and when she went to call him on the ship’s communication system, there was no answer but silence. Worried, Cally made her way hurriedly to Vila’s cabin. Nearly there, she felt the flare again and gasped, steadying herself on the wall before she could go on. Vila might need help, but if his door was locked…

It wasn’t, and Vila wasn’t on his own.

They jumped apart at the opening of the door like two children caught at something they weren’t supposed to do, but there was no concealing what they had been doing, both of their lips flushed. For a moment, they all stood, frozen, then Avon pushed himself away from where he had been leaning against the wall and snatched up his shirt from a nearby chair.

“Why wasn’t the door locked?” he demanded of Vila, and Cally found that Avon could blush, red heat rising up in his cheeks.

“It should have been!” Vila exclaimed, his hands fluttering uselessly, as if he didn’t know what to do with them now that he had torn them away from where they had cradled Avon’s head as Cally had opened the door. “It must have been something you did when you overrode the lock!”

“I am… sorry,” Cally said, not knowing what else to do. “I thought… I sensed something strange from Vila, a sending, and was concerned.”

“We’re fine,” Avon snapped and sharply pulled the shirt over his head. He strode past Vila and Cally without looking at either of them and disappeared into his own cabin, slamming the door control with unnecessary force.

Vila’s shoulders slumped.

“I am sorry, Vila,” Cally said. The damage had been done. Even if she had turned and walked away the moment she had realised they were kissing – but she had been too surprised.

“’s all right, Cally. ‘s not like we were actively keeping it a secret.” Vila let himself fall onto a chair. _Just that Avon was afraid that the telepathy would interfere and now it has_, he sent, and Cally knew better than to think it accidental_. _“I’d meant to make up to him for a few days ago, too,” Vila continued out loud.

_Have you been together long? _Cally asked, despite herself.

“A year or so. Look, Cally, I’ll better go after him. Do you mind…?”

“No, of course.” Cally turned, forcing herself to leave the corridor and to return to her own cabin. Jealousy was alien to her culture, but she couldn’t deny a sense of confusion. If Vila and Avon had been a couple all this time, why then had Vila intended to reveal what he believed Avon’s feelings for Cally to be? Vila hadn’t lied – couldn’t have lied, in telepathic communication, and Cally herself hadn’t thought that he was wrong.

Cally had understood Earth society to be monogamous – she had thought, too, that even established couples who were not a procreating man and woman were still frowned upon. The Federation did not actively enforce breeding or persecute different relationship combinations and styles, but it didn’t overtly approve, either, even as it also seemed to instrumentalise relationships for political gain regardless of the constellation. The need for begetting children naturally for the maintenance of the species had, of course, ceased to exist on Auron before Cally’s birth, and she had found even that restriction incomprehensible. On Auron, the close telepathic communion between romantic partners was valued highly; it mattered not who the partners were, or whether they were willing or capable to produce offspring in the traditional biological manner. But she had understood that it was different, on Earth.

Something Avon had said when she had overheard him and Vila came back to her – “I don’t think she will approve.” She hadn’t understood then what he had meant, and she understood even less, now. The tiptoeing of Earth people around such subjects had always annoyed her, and so, when she next saw Avon on his own as he came to relieve her from watch, she asked outright, though not out loud.

_Do you no longer wish to be with Vila? _

Avon, already half occupied with a systems’ check, glanced up sharply. “What?”

_Vila said you had been in a relationship for a long time. Do you no longer wish it to continue? _

_What gave you that idea? _he asked back, his mental voice cold as ice.

_Or perhaps Vila no longer wishes to be in a relationship with you_, she mused, trying to make sense of it.

Avon’s expression darkened. “You walked in on us! Did it look like we were about to end a relationship?”

She was taken aback by his anger. “No.”

“Well then?”

“I don’t understand, Avon.”

_What is there to understand? _he snapped, and Cally felt a wall coming down around his thoughts, cold and hard and forbidding. Something she had said had truly angered him – more than anger, it had hurt him.

_If you are in a relationship, why did Vila push you to explore the potential between us? _

There was a long, hard silence, then Avon savagely pushed a button on his console, powering it down. “I would prefer to have this conversation somewhere less public.” He stepped up to the central console, opening a comm circuit. “Tarrant. Change of plans. You can have the watch.” With that, not even waiting for Tarrant’s stammered response, he turned to Cally with unpleasant ferocity. “Let’s go.”

Avon invited her into his cabin, where, Cally was relieved to see, the cold hardness faded to weary resignation. He left her to palm the door shut and went to sit at the desk, waving her into the other chair.

“I can’t say that this experience has changed my mind about telepathy. It is nothing but an invasion of privacy,” he said, surprising Cally with the change of topic. She had long since stopped feeling hurt at Avon’s digs about telepathy in general and Auronar telepathy in particular. Now, at least, he had more cause for it than before.

“It has been very useful in the past,” she said simply. “Will you explain?”

“I’ll try.” He grinned wryly and opened with a question of his own, “How do – did romantic relationships work on Auron?”

“We didn’t have to rely on them to reproduce, of course.”

Avon’s twitch of the lip seemed to suggest that the Federation didn’t precisely rely on relationships for reproduction either, but he said nothing.

“Sex and gender are of little consequence, therefore,” she went on, “but we value close bonds, telepathic bonds, of course. Before the isolation there have been relationships with off-worlders, as well. Simply, when two people feel a particular closeness, not unlike family–” But she got no further, a hardening of Avon’s features telling her that she had hit upon something.

“Two,” he echoed, leaning back in his chair. It wasn’t a relaxed pose – there was tension in his shoulders, a bitter cast about his lips.

“Yes, usually. There is greater telepathic closeness also between sibling groups, family. Rarely between friends.”

“But there is a difference.”

“Culturally, yes,” she confirmed, and watched in astonishment as a sadness she had seen so often in the past days returned to Avon’s eyes.

“Well,” he said, unfolding his arms and resting his hands, fingers tightly entwined, on the table before him. “Let’s just say, then, that Vila and I aren’t… generally adverse to including more than one person in our romantic and sexual relationships.”

“Oh,” she said intelligently, pieces of understanding falling into place. That, then, was what Vila had intended – not to bring her and Avon together in a relationship, but to… She didn’t get around to voicing any more of her thoughts, as Avon’s door slid open in that moment, revealing Vila.

“Avon? I had a feeling… oh. Hullo, Cally.”

She nodded at him kindly, even as Avon drew back from the table and her.

“I’ll leave you to it, then, shall I?” Vila said, and there was a strange undercurrent on his easily babbling voice that Cally couldn’t identify, but Avon evidently had.

“No,” Avon said, “stay.”

Vila seemed to brighten and he happily came over to stand behind Avon, squeezing his shoulders. Avon leant back so his head was supported by Vila’s body and one of his hands came up to cover Vila’s.

“What _feeling_, little fool?” he asked, very softly.

“Something telepathic. Like you needed me.”

Avon sighed and glanced at Cally. “Let’s leave the _feelings _to the expert, shall we?” But he looked up at Vila then and a grin sprang up on Vila’s face.

“Yes, you do, don’t you?” Vila said, and Cally knew Avon had sent something at him. “Are you all right, Cally?”

She shook herself out of her contemplation. “Yes, Vila. Perhaps I should leave now.”

“Don’t stop on my account!” Vila said with beguiling innocence, but Avon’s hand tightened on his, knuckles turning white.

“Don’t get your hopes up, Vila,” Avon said, not ungently, but he wouldn’t meet either of their gazes.

“Oh.”

Cally felt disappointment from Vila and knew that he had deliberately projected it. On Auron, such manipulation would have been terribly impolite, but she couldn’t fault Vila for not knowing telepathic conventions. In many ways, it was good to know that they had not been playing a game with her, as they were wont to do in their more mischievous moods.

“Do you understand now, Cally?” Avon asked, his voice carefully neutral – not hostile, not angry, not disappointed but still devoid of the gentle friendliness he had shown towards her, of late.

“Yes,” she said, feeling the need to think, to meditate and settle her thoughts. “Thank you.” She pushed herself to her feet. “I have much to consider.”

“Blew the woman’s mind, did you, Avon?” Vila chortled, but it sounded flat to Cally’s ears and brought no smile onto Avon’s face.

“I will see you later,” she told them both and left.

It was Vila who came to find her, brooding in her cabin. She had almost expected it to be Avon, and found that she didn’t know what to say to Vila. She looked at him, feeling the fondness she held for him, and found that she was looking at him with new eyes, a new understanding.

“Look, Cally,” Vila began, then turned to make sure the door had closed before going on, rapidly and sincerely. “I’ll never get him to say it, but he really likes you. Maybe he’d have done something, but it takes him a while to get comfortable with people, and he got comfortable with me first. He’d want to do something now, but he didn’t because we were already together. Thing is, I want him to. I want him to be with you because I was never good enough for him anyway, knew it wouldn’t last. So if… if you’ll have him, have him.”

Cally stared at him, perplexed. “Vila, do you no longer wish to be with Avon?”

“No, I do – but he likes you, Cally, he needs you, and I don’t want him to be unhappy.”

“Vila, I won’t come between you!”

“But you’re not, see! I’ll make space for you.”

“_That _would make Avon unhappy,” Cally said, and hadn’t been quite as sure of a fact for a long time.

“For a little bit, perhaps, but he’ll be happier with you in the long run, I know. You know how I annoy him sometimes, and I can still be his friend. Give it a try, Cally, if you want to?”

_Poor Vila_, Cally thought, that he couldn’t see the measure of Avon’s evident affection for him, couldn’t see how fiercely Avon needed _him_. “Vila, Avon said… he said you and he…”

“Wouldn’t mind turning the duo into a trio?” Vila completed, smiling sadly. “No, but it doesn’t work, with you just loving Avon. You don’t think of me that way, Avon said. It’s all right. I’d like you to, but I’m not mad. We can’t control these things; it’s not everyone’s cup of tea. Nothing personal, I know. But, Cally, he really needs you, especially now, after Anna.”

Anna who never was. Cally sighed. _He needs you, too, Vila_, she sent.

“Not as badly; I’m just little old me, you know, just harmless Vila. You should have seen him, after the whole mess. Please, Cally.”

She _had _seen him, a curiously fragile Avon, determined to carry on despite being broken – as were they all, but she had never seen Avon’s brokenness so clearly displayed before. And still he had given strength to _her_, while having none of his own, while she had none to give in return. But it hadn’t been her that had seen the most of him, then. It hadn’t been her that had kept him going then; it hadn’t been her that had supported him throughout the venture, because she hadn’t realised how deeply he had felt for this woman until it was all over. She had thought it pointless, uncharacteristic, cruel violence and insurmountable risk, something she had expected Avon to disapprove of, not engage in. But she had been wrong – for Avon, it had been so much more significant than murder. It had been a terrible mistake on her part, and Cally knew herself to be capable of yet further mistakes.

She made a decision.

_Oh Vila. Not without you, _she sent, not finding her voice to say it out loud.

Vila gaped at her, and she knew his shielding had failed, his mind stunned to blankness. Then: _You don’t mean that. _

Immediately, tentatively, there was Avon’s mental touch, open as Vila’s had been, his concern blatant. It seemed that he had decided that now that Cally knew, he needn’t hide his feelings for Vila any longer. _Vila?_

_But I do, _Cally told them, both of them, sensing Avon’s confusion moments before it was eclipsed by Vila’s sudden, brilliantly bright joy. _If you _both_ will have me._

_Cally? _Avon queried, but Vila didn’t give her a chance to answer. He wrapped her into an exuberant hug, enveloping her in his arms and the delightful presence of his mind. She felt the warmth of his mind, the keen spark of wit and humour that she had grown to appreciate and love, and wondered how she could have been so blind. Perhaps it had been easier, after all, to connect with Avon, who, while not usually telepathic, valued his mind above all else. Meanwhile, Vila hid so much of himself that Cally found it difficult to know who he really was, sometimes. That kind of deception was impossible on Auron, and though she had learned to expect it amongst humans, Vila had taken it to a rare level, where it sometimes seemed as though he himself forgot that he was playing a role. The superficial, cowardly fool could be aggravating, but perhaps Avon had been right, and she relied on her impressions too much to really see the unbreakable spirit, the loyalty, the kindness and the cleverness. People like Vila, she thought as he gently let her go, were rare and she was lucky to have met him.

“Cally!” Her cabin’s communication grid came suddenly alive with Dayna’s agitated voice. “Come to the flight deck, quick! Avon’s just collapsed!”

She immediately reached out to Avon mentally, feeling Vila do the same – there was no response. Vila was ahead of her, already hurrying towards the flight deck.

“It’s the telepathy, isn’t it,” he babbled, breathless and anxious. “I’m going to be next, aren’t I?”

“We don’t know that, Vila,” she told him, but was thinking the same thing. Avon’s mental voice had sounded fine, healthy, if confused just a moment ago, but as much as she strained, she couldn’t sense him now.

She saw Dayna first, kneeling by Avon’s fallen form where he seemed to have simply slipped sideways from his station.

They arrived at his side at the same time, though Vila hung back, uneasy. Dayna stood, giving Cally space. “He just fell over, out of the blue!”

Avon stirred a little under Cally’s touch, his eyelids flickering, but he didn’t quite come to. “Help me get him to the medical unit, Vila,” Cally instructed, and Vila jumped into action, his expression of put-upon dismay dissolving into pure worry as soon as they were out in the corridor, leaving Dayna behind.

“What is it, Cally?”

“I don’t know. Perhaps the computers will be able to tell us. Did you sense anything?”

Vila shook his head. “What if I’m next, Cally? What if he’s dying, what if that field killed us, after all? I can’t die, not now! I’ve never been loved by two people before!”

“Nobody is dying, Vila,” Cally told him firmly, and fervently hoped that it was true.

Avon shifted as they positioned him on one of the diagnostic beds. It didn’t look like the uneasy movements caused by pain or sickness, nor was it the unnatural stillness of a coma. If she had found him resting like this, she would have assumed that he was simply… sleeping?

She looked at the monitors again, just to be sure she hadn’t misread.

“What? What does it say?” Vila demanded, wary.

“Avon is asleep. Simple exhaustion,” she reported, not bothering to conceal her surprise. “He will be fine after a few hours,” she lowered her voice, “we shouldn’t disturb him any further.”

Vila’s worry dissolved into astonishment, then his expression went blank, the corners of his mouth twitching with ill-concealed humour. “It’s a joke, isn’t it. _Me _he berates for sleeping on the flight deck. We’re fine, then?”

“Yes, it would appear so.” She drew him to the other side of the room, lowering the lights over the bed where Avon had now curled up on his side. “Vila, has he been sleeping?”

Vila sighed. “As far as I know. Perhaps there have been a few more nightmares lately, but I didn’t think he was _this _exhausted. We haven’t been doing much of anything; the visit to that research station was the first thing in weeks!” _You don’t think it could be the telepathy, after all? _he went on. His mental voice was really getting remarkably subtle in transmitting Vila’s personality.

She laid a hand on his arm. _We will check when Avon wakes. _“I shall go and reassure Dayna. Will you stay with him?”

“Yeh, sure.”

She found both Dayna and Tarrant on the flight deck, and was forced to cut sharply across Tarrant’s jovial quips about their oh-so-reliable leader. Tarrant had been entirely too flippant about the Anna affair, partially because it gave him an upper hand with which to wind Avon up, but partially also because he, like Cally had before it all began, simply didn’t understand. The image he had of Avon and would continue to have of Avon, if Avon had his way, didn’t allow for such depth of feeling, didn’t allow for the thought that Avon had been _hurt_.

“We have all been exposed to high stress levels for too long. We _all _need rest,” she told them, “and we should not disturb Avon unnecessarily.” With that, she left them standing and returned to the medical unit, where she found Avon and Vila conversing in low tones.

She had expected Avon to sleep for longer, but before she could comment, Vila said: “I didn’t wake him up, I swear!”

“I’m more interested in whether or not I was dreaming,” Avon said, his gaze on Cally.

_I have never contemplated a relationship of this sort with more than one partner before_, Cally told him, told them, _but I would like to try. _

Avon smiled, and Cally noticed only then that Vila was cradling his hand in his. _Well_, Avon sent,_ what a fairy tale we make. A thief, an embezzler and an alien. _

_Why can’t it be one of the great jokes, eh? _Vila asked. _I wouldn’t mind it going on with “walk into a bar.”_

It startled a short laugh out of Avon, and when he met Cally’s gaze, his eyes were shining – not with fatigue, as she had so often seen lately, but with love she knew he wouldn’t voice. “What happened?” he asked finally, withdrawing his hand from Vila’s and swinging his legs down to sit sideways on the bed.

“Simple exhaustion. Too much stress.”

Avon frowned. “Have you checked with Orac?”

“I saw no need.”

“I’m not given to fainting, Cally, not when I had a good night’s sleep.” He pushed to his feet. “Let’s talk to Orac. It’s in my cabin.”

Orac, it turned out, agreed with Avon. “_Of course _it was _not _simple fatigue. Such levels of exhaustion would have been visible in the medical examination I carried out a few days ago.”

“What was it then, Orac?” Vila asked.

“What else but the telepathic capability – or more precisely, the shielding. Auronar shielding techniques require a great deal of mental energy that the human brain is unaccustomed to and which can outstrip its capacity for endurance.”

“So since I haven’t collapsed, I’m better at something than Avon?” Vila said, a twinkle in his eye.

Avon shot him a glare, but Orac was first to comment.

“Perhaps you possess a natural predisposition towards telepathy, but it is far more likely that either you have shielded less or retain more spare capacity due to engaging in fewer mental processes.”

“Eh?”

“It means, you do less thinking otherwise,” Avon said with a quicksilver smile.

“What do we do about it, Orac?” Cally asked.

“You can do nothing. The shielding will continue to outstrip human mental capacity if your current lifestyle does not change. I predict that Vila, too, will soon notice the effects.”

“A lifestyle change isn’t in the cards, Orac. Provided that we don’t find a solution for getting rid of this telepathy, what is the long-term projection?”

“Complete burnout,” Orac said, sharply and with his characteristic lack of compassion. “You will experience general detrimental effects to your health and ability. It is not viable in the long-term. It is unacceptable that you should be so grossly impaired.”

“So if we don’t find a solution…”

“We’ll have to stop shielding.”

Avon was already seated at his table, but at his words Vila sank into a chair, too, leaving only Cally to stand over Orac.

“Will the shielding not get less strenuous with practice?” she asked.

“Only marginally,” Orac said, “the improvement will be insignificant.”

“But if we stop shielding, won’t it go back to that… noise?”

“Not necessarily, Vila – you both control your ability better now, your sending is more deliberate – but you will involuntarily pick up sensations and send them yourself that you are now blocking. You will also be _aware _of each other, able to share thoughts at the slightest prompting,” Cally said. “There are – there were people on Auron who did not shield at all, in certain company. But it requires a great deal of openness, familiarity and trust.”

Not unexpectedly, Avon didn’t look pleased. “How long can we keep up the shielding as we are now, Orac, before there are serious effects on our health?”

“_You _cannot,” Orac said. “Already you are experiencing the effects. Continuing to shield will require complete mental rest otherwise.”

“Impossible.”

“_As _I had said. Vila will notice the effects within days, sooner if stress levels rise in the absence of Avon.”

Avon shook his head. “And this full telepathic communion won’t have any adverse effects?”

“There is insufficient data,” Orac proclaimed pompously. “If I am to assume that you wish to continue as you are, a cessation of any shielding is the only viable option. Of course, an unshielded telepath is, by definition, vulnerable. I would advise against alerting the Federation to this development.”

“Wonderful. Great bedside manner, he has,” Vila grumbled, his expression grim.

“It’s a machine,” Avon said, but he, too, looked far from pleased. He lifted his gaze to catch hers. “Any ideas, Cally?”

“There are other shielding techniques that we could try – but the one I taught you is the easiest, so I do not think it will help. Unless the telepathic ability can be removed, I don’t think you have a choice. I’m sorry, Avon.”

Avon glanced away, fingers massaging his temple. _Well, they do say that partners should be open with each other_, he sent and, immediately and abruptly, dropped his shields.

Cally would never have expected him to be first, certainly not after recent events – Vila was still hanging on to his own shielding tightly, but she could sense Avon now, feel the presence of his open mind. She didn’t think a non-telepath would pick it up, but it was undeniable for her. There were no involuntary sendings as yet, but she was intently aware of him, a low level buzz of thought, like sound just below her hearing.

It was bliss.

Her too brief visit to Auron had shown her how much she had missed the telepathic aura, the simple reassurance of others like her, all around her. The reassurance that it wasn’t her senses which had withered and died, that she wasn’t the only being left in the universe. Illogically, she had missed it more after they had left again, as if that brief contact had erased years of growing accustomed to the silent human minds. Now, even though the aura consisted of no more than one person, she felt herself breathing easier. Almost subconsciously, she, too, lowered some of her shields, opening her mind in response.

Distantly, she heard Avon draw a sharp breath, but her gaze was locked on his, her mind floating in joy.

Then, a tentative brush – and Vila was there, too, having lowered his shields. His presence was lighter than Avon’s, but just the intensification of the aura was enough to make Cally smile broadly, at which she received a perplexed answering joy from Vila.

_You never said it would be like this, Cally! _Vila sent, and it felt as though the telepathic touch were surrounding her, shielding her even as they had ceased to shield. She knew, distantly, that they were incredibly vulnerable in this state, that it would be difficult to function in a combat situation, but she understood, finally, why there were those that she had told Avon about – those that chose not to shield, amongst the people they loved.

_I didn’t know, _she told them, gently sharing her experience of the planet-wide aura, comforting but distant.

_Cally, _Avon sent, and there was something sad in his mental touch. _We cannot keep this ability if we mean to continue fighting_.

_Avon, don’t be a spoilsport! _

Cally drew back, focussing her outer senses on the two men. “No, Vila, he is right. With the shields, we might have been able to make it work, but without…”

“You can still shield, can’t you?”

She nodded. “Yes, but through you, I will be just as vulnerable. We are able to function as a close unit, like this, but if anything were to happen to any of us, the others would suffer the consequences.”

Avon didn’t like that thought, or perhaps he didn’t like how she had phrased it – he still liked to pretend not to be affected by, not to _need_ others. But he agreed: “We will be able to sense everything. How do you propose we focus, if any of us is in danger, or pain?”

_I already worry about danger and pain_, Vila sent, stubbornly.

_It’s not the same, Vila_, Cally said, knowing full well that he already understood. “I don’t want to give this up, Avon. Vila. But it is the only way.”

“Well.” Avon’s lips quirked. “We could _stop _fighting the Federation.”

_You wouldn’t! _Cally protested, though she sensed both of them entertaining the idea.

Avon glanced away, and she felt him struggle not to shield. “Perhaps not,” he said. “We seem to have little choice at any rate.”

“Can you hear our thoughts now, Cally?” Vila asked.

“No. Can you hear mine? Or Avon’s?”

“No. Just the sensations, then?” Vila settled back in the chair. “I could live with that. Let’s find us a nice little neutral planet and settle down, eh, Avon?”

There was a flash of pain from Avon that made him hide his face from them and Vila cringe.

“Sorry, wasn’t thinking” Vila murmured.

“Do you ever?” Avon said, but his voice was flat and Cally realised, suddenly, that what Vila had said had made him think of Anna. She reached out with her telepathy to comfort, unthinkingly. She half expected to be brushed off, but his mind remained open, receptive, unlike his earlier struggle to avoid shielding.

Avon inhaled deeply and straightened. “There would be little point, anyway. The Federation will never stop persecuting us – no neutral planet will ever be safe enough for _us_, Vila.”

“Yeah, I know,” Vila said, very quietly. “Still, it’s a nice thought.”

He had no sooner closed his mouth that an alarm sounded, harsh and shrill in the peace of the cabin, and Tarrant’s voice came through the comms: “Battle stations! We’re engaging a squadron of pursuit ships.”

“Where the hell did they come from?”

They rushed to the flight deck, taking their positions. Cally found to her surprise that Avon and Vila’s presence at the periphery of her mind was less disruptive than she would have expected. Both were professional, focussed and calm – there wasn’t even the nervousness she had come to expect from Vila.

“Have they spotted us?” Avon asked.

“We have been scanned. They’re in firing range.”

“Then why aren’t they firing?”

“Let’s not hang about to find out. Tarrant, plot an evasion course and get us out of here.”

_Avon, wait. _Cally ran a second scanner scope. “Wait. There are no life signs on these ships.”

“No life signs?” Dayna asked. “But doesn’t Zen even pick up mutoids?”

“It does,” Avon agreed. “All right, let’s stick around and investigate.” He looked down at his console, and Cally could sense a vague impression of his thoughts, akin to what she had first picked up from him, down in the research facility. Now, with the closeness of the unshielded communion, she realised that Avon was thinking rapidly, his mind moving through calculations and thoughts more quickly than she had ever witnessed, making connections in a manner that seemed extraordinary to her. She had no experience with human thought patterns, but even so Avon’s seemed far different than what she had expected.

“We are close enough to a sun to regenerate our energy,” Avon said. “Put up the force wall – just in case. Tarrant, hold our distance; I want to be able to get away if necessary. Do we have a plot of their movement?”

“Yes, transmitting it to your console. They approached at cruise speed, scanned us, and are now holding at equidistance.”

“What are they doing? That’s not normal, is it?”

Avon shook his head, answering Vila out loud, “No. Remote controlled unmanned vessels are one thing – ones that don’t _do _anything are peculiar. Either we have acquired a strange shadow, or they are waiting for something.”

“What do we do?”

“Cally, run another scan. See if you can… _sense _anything, too. If that fails to provide any answers…”

“No!” Vila protested immediately, prompting an amused quirk of the lips from Avon, and a nonplussed expression from Tarrant.

“We could always teleport on board,” Avon finished, leaning back to rub his hands. “I, for one, am not prepared to let these ships which found us so easily go unexamined.”

“I agree,” Tarrant said. “Dayna and I–”

“No. We need a pilot on board, in case of emergencies. You are getting too desperate for a change of scenery, Tarrant, to think clearly. Vila and I will go – and Dayna.”

_Dayna? _Cally echoed, feeling strangely hurt. Avon brushed her off telepathically, a vaguely reassuring dismissal while he stared down Tarrant until the young pilot, reluctantly, nodded.

“I’ll get kitted up,” Dayna announced eagerly and hurried out.

Avon eased out from behind his console. “So should we. Cally, keep me updated on that scan. I’ll see what Orac has to say before we try anything else, too. Come on, Vila.”

They left her behind, though the moment their steps had faded from audible range, Cally felt Avon’s deliberate telepathic touch. _I need one of us on the _Liberator_, Cally. _

_I understand_. And she did, automatically drawing into herself to shield the inappropriate rejection she had felt at his choice. She couldn’t allow herself to become dependent on their closeness and contact. Sooner or later, their unnatural telepathy might fade, and Avon rightly would not compromise the _Liberator_’s functioning for personal ties. On the flight deck and on missions, even his relationship with Vila had always seemed non-existent. To expect otherwise was foolish, weak, and unlike her. It went to show how long she had been without real communion.

Watching the scanner data, as Avon had requested, Cally felt Vila touch her mind quizzically, and opened herself to him, to them again, having recovered her balance.

_It’s not personal, Cally. I’d rather not go, but has Avon ever listened to me? _Vila sent.

Cally smiled at that. _I understand. I am sorry. I must not allow myself to become too attached to our communion. You were right to leave me here, Avon. If anything goes wrong, one of us needs to be able to respond, and I am the best choice. _

Avon sent her a mute acknowledgement, though his attention, she could feel, was on Orac, and what the computer had to say about their new shadow.

A moment later, the internal comms came to life. “Orac can’t find any life signs, either,” Avon said. “The navigation computers are online, but nothing else shows any sign of activity that Orac can find.”

“So, you’ll go investigate?” Tarrant responded.

“Yes. Drop the force wall only to teleport us, then raise it again. At any sign of danger to the ship, _leave_.”

“Don’t worry, Avon. I’ll take care of her.”

_At least he’s good for something_, Avon thought, clear as if he’d spoken right next to her, and Cally felt Vila’s responding amusement. Suddenly, she felt safe again, secure in their new bond and in the relationship they had only just begun to develop. 

A moment later, their presence grew more distant – they had teleported. Cally could still sense them – Avon’s quiet alertness and Vila’s tension, and she was sure that she would know if they were in danger. In the meantime, all she could do was wait, and try not to distract them by sending. The latter was easy for her – after all, she could still shield – the former, the waiting, was more difficult.

“Over and safe,” Avon reported through the communicator. “There really seems to be no one here. We’re making our way to the flight deck.”

_Avon_, Vila’s telepathic voice came suddenly, _what if they used a shield?_

_To mask the life signs? Orac would have picked up the energy signature. _

Avon didn’t sound concerned – Cally was almost surprised that their sending came through so clearly. She herself had always struggled over distances, even with her fellow Auronar – perhaps it had to do with their lowered shields. Even when Cally had sent, she had never fully opened herself before.

As time passed and nothing changed, Cally began to relax slightly, leaning back in her seat. She couldn’t quite shake the thought that it felt like a trap – why deliver three unmanned pursuit ships into their hands – but she couldn’t think how. There were automated defence systems, of course, but with Avon and Vila they had possibly the best team in the known universe to beat them. Vila’s talent with locks and Avon’s genius for computers – at full capacity, no security system could keep them out – or in.

_In? _Vila echoed, showing an astonishing ability to read her, and suddenly there was a spike of tension from both of them.

“Avon,” Tarrant announced tersely. “I’m picking up a surge of energy.”

Tension merged to alarm. “Teleport us back, now!” came Avon’s voice through the commlink. But even so, they were too late.

Voices merged together, telepathic and oral, as Orac reported, “Unable to comply,” Tarrant exclaimed, “The engines have activated!” and there was sharp, mutual, wordless flare of alarm from both Vila and Avon that made Cally cry out, “No!”

And then, she couldn’t sense them anymore. The… pain of the sudden separation almost obscured her vision of the scanner scope, on which the pursuit ships were speeding away from _Liberator_, heading into nowhere.

“Orac! Do you have them?!”

“No!” Orac reported again, tersely. “As I told you, teleport was impossible, as the ships have brought up their force walls.”

“Tarrant! They are taking them away!”

Tarrant, if he heard the uncharacteristically panicked tone in her voice, chose to ignore it, his fingers flying over the controls rapidly. “Zen, follow those ships. Don’t loose them under any circumstances. Orac, can you override their flight computer, stop them?”

“I cannot. The controlling computer is an outmoded model that does not operate on a tarriel cell basis. Disrupting any other systems may result in the destruction of the ship.”

“So it was a trap. Damn!” Tarrant spun around to face her. “Cally – are you all right?”

Cally imagined she must look quite pale. “Yes. Can we keep up with them? At least we will know where they are being taken.”

“Information,” Zen announced suddenly. “Two unmanned pursuit ships have veered off-course and are heading towards _Liberator _at an attack vector.”

“Damn!” Tarrant cursed again. “I need you at the weapons, Cally!”

She scrambled down from her position. “Can we evade them?”

“No – we’ll have to veer off course to fight. Clear neutron blasters for firing.”

“Cleared!”

They destroyed the pursuit ships easily enough – Zen was able to handle two almost entirely on automatic. But by the time the two attackers were gone, so was the third ship – the one carrying Avon, Vila and Dayna.

Cally fetched Orac from the teleport room, and together they held war council.

“Is there any way to trace them, Orac?”

“You are already doing so. The most expedient course of action is to follow on the ship’s original flight vector.”

“But they could have changed course?”

Tarrant nodded grimly. “And they probably have. They could be anywhere by now.”

“So we have lost them?”

“I am sorry, Cally, but I don’t see how else we could search. We will monitor for transmissions, of course – but unless their arrival is entered into a computer Orac can read…”

“Orac, monitor for such transmissions.”

“I am already doing so. In the absence of Avon, the likelihood of my continued undamaged existence is much reduced.”

Tarrant frowned. “Great. We’re stuck with a bitterly self-interested computer and no way to recover our crewmates.”

“Perhaps I can reach them,” Cally suggested, weakly. She knew it was unlikely – she couldn’t even sense them anymore, and their sending had seemed stronger than her usual range.

Tarrant shrugged. “We might as well try. I’ll monitor the flight deck.”

“I’ll let you know.”

Cally retreated to her cabin, settling down on the bed and opening her mind. There was nothing, the emptiness crushingly painful. Her own worry ached – the Federation might not have succeeded in capturing the _Liberator _out of hand, but with three of her crew as bargaining chips, they were vulnerable as they had never been before. Not to mention that one of the people captured was Avon, himself worth nearly as much as control of the ship. Cally feared for their safety, their wellbeing, and their future. She did not imagine that Avon would be killed so soon – but the Federation might not consider Dayna or Vila to be that valuable. In fact, they might consider threatening _them _an expedient technique for forcing Avon into compliance. For all that Avon affected not to care for any of them, his current telepathic link with Vila made him more vulnerable than ever before – not to even speak of any personal relationship ties. The knowledge that Avon was able to keep a cool head in a crisis did little to alleviate her fears.

She could do nothing to help them, of course, except lie there and _listen_, and hope that the _Liberator _would, in a large galaxy, by pure chance carry her into range.

It was easy to get lost in the silence, the pressing emptiness. If not for Tarrant’s occasional contact, Cally thought she might have begun to lose herself entirely to the nothingness. It was risky, to remain so open for so long when she was so alone, but she could not do anything but hope that, eventually, she would pick something up.

And then, when she wasn’t trying, just for a moment, just to eat the food that Tarrant had forced onto her, she did. It wasn’t a pleasant contact – no call to reach her, no soft brush of telepathy, but an agonised scream. If she had still been as open as she had been just minutes before, it would have been crippling and would probably not have told her anything at all. Through her faint, automatic shielding, it was just acute enough that she couldn’t say with certainty whether it had come from Avon or Vila – but she could get a sense of direction. It was only the vaguest of impressions, more of a sense that they were getting further away than anything else. Still, she hurried to the flight deck, and made Tarrant turn the ship around.

“You sensed something?”

“Something, yes. It _is_ them. It is gone now – but perhaps if we get closer, I will sense them again.”

If Avon had been there, he would have questioned her range, her ability to pick up a contact from non-telepaths she couldn’t even reach, but Tarrant was less inquisitive. He simply did as she had asked and kept a terse eye on the long-range sensors as she sat on the flight deck sofa and lowered her shields. She sent out a call, like echolocation, but there was no response.

The pain she had sensed had been terrible – it was possible that the one of them who had sent it was unconscious now. There would be more waiting. But even the faint glimmer of hope had fortified her. They would find them. _Avon_, she called, into the void, _Vila. Hear me. _

She might have tried Dayna – but she hoped that fellow telepaths, no matter how artificial, might be more receptive over the distance – more, that they might be able to respond, an advantage she hadn’t had for so long, among non-telepaths.

As the _Liberator_’s course change began to take effect, she imagined she sensed something. It was just at the edge of her awareness, a faint glimmer of a presence – but perhaps it was her own wishful thinking. Still, she called and listened, and, eventually, was rewarded. It was words, this time – one word:

_Stop! _agonised, tortured, Vila.

Cally didn’t know whether he was pleading for himself or for any of the others, and when she reached out there was no response – no sense that Vila knew she was there. But it had been enough to fine-tune their direction. They _were _getting closer, not too far, in fact, from the place where they had first fallen into the trap. Possibly the pursuit ships hadn’t travelled far; and the one carrying the prisoners had gone to ground nearby soon after the _Liberator _had lost its tail.

Orac was monitoring Zen’s sensor data, trying to find any indication of where they had gone, accessing any computers it could find. So far, it had had less luck than Cally. “_If_,” Orac complained, “I had not received programming against telepathic intervention, _severely _limiting my functionality, I might be able to–”

“Shut up, Orac. You very nearly were the bridge for a hostile alien entity intend on destroying our universe, yourself included,” Cally told it, impatient. She itched to do something, to take action to save her friends – her partners – but first she needed to find them.

Next was a horrible flare of inarticulate pain; Avon’s beautiful patterns of thought in complete, tormented disarray. Beyond it, barely even a pale echo, was Vila’s distress. Instinctively, Cally had flung up her shields, but she forced herself to drop them again, calling to them, even as she fell forward on the seat, hands pressed to her head, in shared pain. _Avon, Vila! _

There was no indication that they had heard. Avon, she thought, was probably beyond perception, but Vila might have picked up her call. There was no change in what she could sense from him, however, and, reluctantly, Cally retreated behind her shields again. She could retain a faint awareness of Avon now, of the sheer, destructive torment he felt, even as she protected herself from the worst of it. As much as she wished to share his pain, to help, she needed to function.

Tarrant was kneeling in front of her. “Cally? What happened, what did you sense?”

“We’re getting closer,” she told him. “They are being tortured.”

“Right,” Tarrant said, his lips pressing together into an angry thin line. “Are we on the right course?”

“Yes. Yes, I think we are.”

He rose, leaving a hand on her shoulder for a moment before spinning around to Orac. “Orac, I want to know what’s ahead of us. I don’t care how you find out, but I want to go in prepared.”

Orac whirred but remained silent.

Cally brushed at her face, finding tears there, and tried to call out to Vila again. She didn’t think she had a chance of getting through to Avon, and Dayna, even if she might have heard, couldn’t respond to her. _Vila_, she called, trying to penetrate his distress, _Vila. Vila. _She projected some of her love, hoping that the sensation might – and it did!

Vila’s distress didn’t change, but there was a flicker of surprise and, then, desperate hope. _Cally! _

_We’re coming. Vila, we are coming. Hang in there. _

_Cally! Haven’t got a bracelet – you’ve got to help him! I’ve had to shield, but it’s so exhausting, I don’t know how much longer I can… _

The contact faded out as Avon’s pain flared.

_We’re coming_, Cally told them both, in the vain hope that perhaps some of it might get through to Avon, after all. She couldn’t quite picture what was happening, had never sensed such from him, even when she had picked up small sensations of pain before they had become telepaths.

“There is a facility on Theta Trios,” Orac announced suddenly.

“_Theta _Trios!” Tarrant echoed. “But that’s a gas giant.”

“Which is why we didn’t bother to scan it for Federation presence when we visited Gamma Trios.” Cally pushed herself shakily to her feet, heading to her station. “Is it manned, Orac?”

“It is impossible to scan for life signs at this distance. However, I would hypothesise that it is not. It is connected to the telepathic research conducted on Gamma Trios.”

“_Telepathic _research?”

Suddenly what she was picking up from Avon made abrupt, horrible sense. “They were investigating how to turn telepathy into a weapon,” Cally said.

“That is correct.”

“Then perhaps the Federation doesn’t know who we are, yet. The automated systems might have been sent to pick up anyone who had come into the proximity of Gamma Trios.”

Tarrant sighed explosively. “Well, we’ll figure out who to thank for small favours later. It’s a good thing you remained behind, Cally.”

Cally bit her tongue against telling him the truth. She would, if it was inevitable for their success, but for now Avon and Vila had suffered enough without an added breach of privacy. “The others are still being harmed. We have to hurry, Tarrant.” _We found you, Vila. We’re coming. _

Vila projected his acknowledgement back wordlessly.


	3. Chapter 3

One unmanned pursuit ship had come to meet them on their approach, but it hadn’t even been an obstacle for the _Liberator_. They dispatched it without delay, and when Orac and Zen reported no more activity, they gathered in the teleport room, fully kitted up. Cally stowed an additional knife in her boot, carefully checking that her bracelet was clasped tight about her upper arm and that her gun was firmly connected to its power pack. Tarrant had tried to convince her that, perhaps, it wasn’t a good idea for her to go down, because of her telepathy, but Cally wouldn’t let him stop her. Her friend and her partners were in danger, and she was confident that her shields could withstand most telepathic assaults.

The downside of fully shielding herself was that her awareness of Avon and Vila was muted – but considering the incredible pain she had been able to sense even while they were not yet in orbit, the shielding might contribute more to her functioning than what comfort she could transmit to Vila. Avon’s mind, she was sure, was currently too overwhelmed to sense anything outside of itself and what was being done to it.

When they materialised, they were in a non-descript corridor. Tarrant spun around quickly, then nodded an all clear. “No staff, Orac said. I wonder what else they left here to stop intruders.”

“Perhaps they relied on secrecy,” Cally suggested, though she proceeded with extreme caution. She had seen the Federation’s guard robots in action. If any robots patrolled these doorless corridors and saw them first, they would have no chance of getting away before being caught in a paralysing field and incinerated. Still, the base was suspended low in the atmosphere of a gas giant, heavily fortified against the elements and barely accessible except in specially outfitted ships – or via the teleport. Perhaps they were lucky. “This way,” she indicated and took the lead, trusting that Tarrant would watch their back.

The corridor seemed to stretch into nowhere, curving in on itself. They encountered no robots or other traps, and Cally’s senses started to hum with Vila and Avon’s presence again, even through her telepathic shielding. Something had changed – Avon no longer projected quite as much agony.

When a fork in the corridor came in sight along with some sliding doors, Cally slowed to a cautious stop. “Cover me,” she told Tarrant and focussed her attention inward for a moment. _Vila. We’re in the base. Where are you? _

_Cally! Don’t know, locked up in a cell somewhere. Dayna and Avon aren’t with me. _

_Locked up? _she echoed, gently teasing, and immediately felt his frustration.

_There’s something in front of the door. I can’t shift it. _

_Vila, are there any guards? Robots? _

_Only a restraint bot, that I’ve seen. _

Cally wasn’t sure how a restraint bot functioned, but she assumed that the name was indicative of its purpose. Probably it was used to convey prisoners from and to their cells and to remove any potentially dangerous possessions. She didn’t think she had time to find out more from Vila. _Vila, I have to shield again – can you reach Avon?_

_I wouldn’t, Cally – they did something. _

She felt a sudden, diffuse touch then and knew that it came from Avon – he had heard and he was alive. For now, that was satisfactory. She sent out a wordless caress and brought her shields back up, hefting her weapon. Turning to Tarrant, she quickly summarised what Vila had said, concealing the truth of their contact, “They are all here, but they aren’t together.”

“Do we split up to search?”

“No, I think that would be unwise. There might still be automated guards. It will take longer, but we should stay together. Let’s check each door.”

They found Dayna first, farthest from the core of the station. She was slightly queasy from the gas that had been used to subdue them on board the pursuit ship, but otherwise unharmed. Cally gave her the spare knife and a teleport bracelet, then hurried them on. Avon had clearly been given a respite, but there was no telling how long it would last. She wasn’t sure should could stand the full force of what had been done to him, even through the shields, at such a close range, and she didn’t want to wait and find out.

A coded door blocked their entrance to the centre of the facility. In the absence of Vila and Avon, Cally made short work of the lock with her gun. Neither of her partners would have approved of the brute force approach, but it was, if nothing else, fast.

_Hey, I’m fast_, Vila protested suddenly. _You’re close, Cally. I can feel you._

“Dayna, stay by the door,” Cally told her, advancing carefully over the threshold.

Tarrant agreed even as he already followed after Cally. “Contact Orac. Make sure he’s ready to pull us out in a hurry,” he instructed Dayna. 

“Right.”

Cally could hear her calling the ship behind her, but she kept her gaze directed forwards, pressing on. Vila _was _close – but something was distorting her perception. She thought to ask him, but then changed her mind. It was just possible that something in the facility could detect telepathic ability. After all, it had automatically separated Vila and Avon from Dayna, leaving her imprisoned in the outer ranges of the station, while the both of them had been taken to its core. “Tarrant,” Cally said, as they turned a corner. “There might be something working against telepathy here. I dare not use it. If I become incapacitated, find Vila and Avon; don’t stop to help me. I shall teleport out.”

Tarrant didn’t look too happy, but he nodded. “Barred door, dead ahead.”

“Vila?”

“Let’s find out.” Tarrant holstered his gun quickly and pushed against the heavy closed shelving unit that barred all but the topmost centimetres of the doorway.

As expected, they found an anxious Vila hovering behind it. “’bout time,” he told Tarrant and laid his hand on Cally’s arm. “Find him yet?”

“No – we found Dayna first.”

“What is happening here, Vila?” Tarrant demanded.

“Don’t know, don’t care. But it looked like they were about to do something nasty to Avon when I last saw him.” Vila caught her gaze, and she could see remembered agony shining in them. Now was not the time to ask.

“Possibly he is even further in the facility, then,” she said, out loud, and passed Vila a bracelet. They didn’t have a weapon for him, but Vila’s hand was clasped tightly around a probe.

“If I catch that robot,” he said, “I’ll take it apart personally. Locked me up twice and then put that hulking big shelf in front of the door. Insulting, that’s what it is.”

“Vila, shut up.”

“I talk when I’m nervous. Helps me focus. You should try it some time, flyboy. It’s that way, I think, Cally.”

They found Avon in another cell, though unlike Dayna’s, which had simply opened at a touch from the outside, and Vila’s, which had clearly been adapted to his escape attempts with a simple barricade, the door to Avon’s cell required Vila’s skilled touch to open. Clearly, they were keen to prevent their primary test subject from escaping.

Avon was conscious and came to his feet when the door opened, which was about all that Cally was able to take in on the spot: Her vision instantly blurred out under the telepathic assault of his unshielded, disarrayed thoughts, and she hastily had to withdraw even further mentally to shield herself.

Vila winced but pushed past her to scuttle close to Avon, holding out a bracelet. Cally remained with Tarrant in the doorway, though she, at least, couldn’t claim to have been keeping watch on the corridor. She wondered how Vila found the resilience to use only minimal shielding, to come close enough to Avon to touch, but she was grateful that he could. 

Avon took the bracelet wordlessly, his jaw clenching. Cally only hoped that he felt nothing of her mental revulsion – it had nothing to do with Avon, the disorder was something that had been done to him and that repulsed her, but Avon, in his weakened, sensitive state might misunderstand. She had no wish to hurt him any more than he had already been.

“That seemed easy, and everyone seems fine,” Tarrant commented, missing Avon’s wince and Vila’s bitter glare. “A good thing they didn’t catch you, Cally; who knows what they might have done then.”

“Right,” Vila murmured bitterly.

Cally silenced him with a look, activating her bracelet. “Orac, are you ready?”

“Yes, of course,” came Orac’s displeased reply, “I don’t see why I should have to confirm so irrelevant fact time and time again, when your human minds are clearly suffering from an underdeveloped capacity for–”

“All right, Orac,” Tarrant said, “stand by. We should explore the facility first, now that we’re here – see if we can learn what the Federation was cooking up here. If they were trying to weaponise telepathy…”

“No,” Avon said, his voice raspy and low, as if forced out of a resisting throat.

“But–”

“No. We teleport out,” Avon said, in the tone of a clarification. It wasn’t, precisely, but it seemed all he could manage. Cally was concerned for him, but it would have to wait until they were safely back on the ship, where she could afford to let her guard down.

“And then we’ll blast this place from the skies,” Vila added.

“But it seems safe enough. We should–”

“Tarrant,” Cally said, making the choice, “leave it. Orac, teleport us up.” They rematerialised in the teleport bay, Tarrant still protesting. Cally fixed him with a glare. “Enough, Tarrant. Avon and Vila need to be in the medical unit. If you must, wait for us to be done, but it would be better to depart now and leave nothing of the station behind.”

Tarrant exchanged a glance with Dayna, who had shifted to Cally’s side in mute support. His gaze travelled on to pass over Avon and Vila, perhaps finally seeing the strain their imprisonment had had on both men, perhaps finally remembering that Cally had told him they had been tortured, even if there were none of the usual obvious signs. “Fine,” he said, “I’ll be on the flight deck. Keep me updated.”

Avon all but collapsed on one of the beds in the medical unit, tersely shifting onto his side and drawing up his knees.

Cally hadn’t dared to lower her shields yet, but Vila seemed to understand some of what had happened – the moment the door had closed, he hurried about, lowering the lights and raising the temperature, and pulled blankets from the cupboards. To Cally’s surprise, he piled all of them on the unprotesting Avon before sinking into a chair himself.

Cautiously, Cally lowered her barriers, trying to project reassurance. _What happened down there?_

Still there was no response from Avon but fragments, faint as if forced out through quagmire.

“Far as I can tell,” Vila whispered, “they overloaded everything. The… telepathy, but also everything else. Sensory games are a favourite torture technique in the Federation. I only caught bits of it, but only because I shielded as soon as it started. I know we shouldn’t, and I could sleep for days, but I don’t know whether I could have…”

“You did well, Vila,” Cally assured him. When she approached Avon, Vila caught her arm.

“Don’t. No touch, no light.”

“Yes, of course. I see.” For a moment, she hovered somewhat uselessly, then turned to the cupboards to fetch Vila’s beloved adrenalin and soma, holding a glass out to him. “You deserved it.”

Vila nodded his thanks. “It still hurts,” he murmured, “seeing him like this.”

“I’ll be fine,” Avon said suddenly, unexpectedly. He shifted minutely under the blankets, finally turning over onto his back. A hand appeared from the folds to rub at his forehead. Deliberate telepathic projection still seemed to be beyond him, but Cally could sense that, slowly, his thoughts were returning to ordered, calmer patterns. It was a stark contrast to the turmoil from down on the planet – distantly, she was amazed that he had been able to listen and speak at all then.

“Is there anything we can do to help?” Cally asked him quietly, laying her hand on Vila’s shoulder.

Avon shook his head. _Vila is right, _he sent, faintly but more coherently than his spoken voice had sounded or the state of his thoughts had led Cally to expect. _It’s overload. I best deal with it on my own. _

“See?” Vila mumbled, under his voice.

_Vila, you forget that Cally was not there, before. _

Cally knew they had both felt her surprise, but Avon didn’t elaborate, and Vila evidently didn’t intend to explain.

_Still wish I could do something_, Vila telepathed, nursing his drink. _There wasn’t anything I could do to help down there, either._

_You protected yourself. That is good_, Cally told him, firmly, and felt Avon’s agreement, though it remained wordless.

Vila sighed. “Don’t know why you put up with me. A genius and a guerrilla warrior, and little old me.”

_Oh, Vila! _“We’d be lost without you.”

“You mean that?”

_Of course she means it. _Avon shifted again, shakily sitting up. Some the blankets slipped to the floor, but none of them cared enough to stop their fall.

“Do you want a drink, Avon?”

_I couldn’t keep it down. _She felt a sudden yearning from him, chased by an impulse to shield the thought from them, but either Avon had regained enough control to prevent the instinctive reaction or he was simply too battered to summon the energy to shield. The sensation lingered, not vocalised, but not shielded either.

Vila identified the thought before she could. _Aww, Avon, she’d have found out you’re a cuddler soon enough_, he sent, mental voice suddenly lighter. But he didn’t move to reach out to the other man, and Cally took her cues from him, maintaining her distance.

“I’m… never going to get you to shut up like this, am I?” Avon asked out loud, then cleared his throat. _Perhaps a glass of water, after all, Cally. _

Cally nodded and fetched one for him. She took some of the soma for herself – it would be good for her nerves, which she should not transmit to Vila or Avon. Now that they were safe, she did not want to continue to shield around them. She knew that their shared aura would have a stabilising effect, but only if she, the only truly trained telepath among them, was able to control her concern and the inevitable reaction to the tension of the past hours.

Avon drained the glass slowly and in total silence, punctuated only by the distant sounds of the ship and their combined breathing. If the telepathic aura they shared had been akin to a body of water, Cally might have been watching the violent ripples and waves slowly evening out until the surface was once again calm. It might only have lasted a few minutes, but the serenity, the companionship went a long way to soothe Cally’s own unease.

Beyond the calm, she begun to sense exhaustion – bone-deep weariness, the kind of tiredness that could not long be ignored.

Avon set down the glass with a sigh, his fingers tracing aimless patterns over the blanket that still lay across his knees. She could feel half-formed thoughts from him, but it was Vila who first spoke up, already half-dozing himself.

“Bed?”

“Yes. We all need rest.” Cally forced herself into motion, collecting their glasses and the fallen blankets.

“What about Tarrant?”

“I shall tell him to take no action until we have recovered.”

Avon didn’t want her to go. That thought, if nothing else, came to her with astonishing clarity. She tried to catch his gaze, but he kept it adverted and would not give voice to the sensation.

Cally placed the items down. “I shall be back.”

“We won’t fit,” Avon said, abruptly breaking his silence with a remark she could not put into context.

Vila, however, had and came to his feet. Cally could feel him drawing on the last reserves of his energy, again showing the resilience she was beginning to truly admire. “We’ll find a way. Come on, Avon. Wouldn’t you rather be in your cabin?”

“Of course I’d rather,” Avon said, his voice cracking. He, Cally realised suddenly, was beyond what he was capable of enduring. And she had thought him merely exhausted! She had been fooled by his manner and his natural mental barriers. Even without the shields between them, there was clearly much she still had to learn about her new partners.

“Go,” she said softly. “I will deal with Tarrant. I won’t be long.”

Tarrant, predictably, resented being told to wait, but a stern glance from Dayna and Cally’s decisive tone seemed to settle the matter. With Dayna’s “Don’t worry, Cally!” still sounding in her ears, Cally hurried back down to the corridor of Avon and Vila’s cabins. They were already there, Vila beckoning her from the doorway – not that she would have needed the signal to find them. Avon was on the bed, asleep in a way that Cally had never seen him – completely, entirely beyond the waking world, half curled onto his side, one arm resting across his midriff, the other stretched out across the mattress, his hand open and palm facing upwards. Vila, she realised, had been holding his hand.

“Vila, is he all right?”

Vila guided her inside gently, closing and locking the door. _He will be; don’t worry, Cally. It’s a bad one, because of what they did down there, but he gets them sometimes, when he really works himself into exhaustion. _

“You have helped him before?” she asked, not trusting herself to send. It would take her a while to get used to the intimacy between the two men that she had never expected – oh, she had known that they were friends, of course, but she hadn’t even begun to grasp just how much more of Avon Vila had been allowed to see compared to herself. And yet, even knowing that Vila could and had handled it, Avon had not wanted her to leave. Despite it all, that was flattering.

“Yeah,” Vila whispered, returning to the bedside. _He needs people, sometimes, Cally, especially like this. He can’t stand touching, for a while, but afterwards… well, you heard._

The vague impression from earlier, the desire for physical closeness, to be held – so fleeting, and so clearly embarrassing to Avon, but no surprise for Vila. _I have much yet to learn, _she sent, _about both of you. _

Vila’s eyes twinkled. “Not much to learn about little old me,” he quipped, but she knew he was joking, this time. “Look, Avon was right – the bed’s too small for all three of us. You sleep with him. I’ll take the chair.”

“Vila, you are exhausted. Don’t think I have forgotten what you had to do. I will be right here – I will meditate.”

Vila sighed, but he didn’t protest – testimony to his tiredness. He toed off his shoes, lay down beside Avon and pulled up a blanket over both of them. Avon mumbled and shifted, but didn’t waken. Vila’s smile reached her across their communion. _Thank you, Cally. _

Even in slumber, she was aware of them both, a dimension to her meditation that she had sorely missed. It would hurt, she realised, when they lost their telepathy. The tentative beginnings of their relationship, Cally hoped, would endure, but she was getting too used to their enhance presence, too quickly. She had, she was sure, not agreed to become a part of their relationship for their telepathy, but she could not deny how much she yearned for it, despite the risks. If there was a choice, for them to keep the new ability or return to their previous state, she knew what they would chose – even as she knew that she could not let them see her feelings when the time came. They both cared deeply for her, and she would not influence them. Perhaps, if the shielding could have been maintained, she would have asked – but the way things stood, she would endanger their lives for her own selfishness, and Cally would never go so far.

She had never known Avon to sleep for more than five or six hours – but it was a full eight before a faint mental stirring alerted her to his return to wakefulness. Cally opened her eyes. Vila still happily slept on, snoring softly as he lay on his back. Avon was as he had been when she had last looked at them, curled close to Vila’s side, but not quite touching. It did not take long from the first stirrings of consciousness to him becoming fully awake.

He opened his eyes and looked straight at her. _Cally_.

_Good morning, Avon_.

_Is it? _He rolled over onto his back slowly, careful not to jostle Vila, and brushed a hand over his face. _Shiptime? _

_It is early, Avon. Tarrant and Dayna will be fine._

He smiled faintly. _I have a question to ask Orac. But first – _

_First, we’ll shower and change and have breakfast, _Vila announced suddenly, surprising them both.

“You’re awake!”

“Who can sleep with you two chatting away?” Vila pushed himself up on his elbows and critically looked Avon over. “How do you feel?”

Avon exhaled, briefly catching Cally’s eyes, and then, quite evidently, decided to tell the truth. “I have been better. But I have also been a lot worse. On balance, probably as well as could be expected, under the circumstances.”

“I shall leave to freshen up,” Cally said, unfolding her legs.

“Oh, we wouldn’t mind you staying, would we, Avon? Shower’s big enough for three.”

_Vila! _she chided him gently.

“What? Avon and I are going to share, and we’re not going to have sex, either. You’re part of this now, Cally, which means _you_ get the privilege of massaging Avon’s back!”

“Lazy sod,” Avon mumbled affectionately, surprising Cally with the uncommon vulgarity. He sat up. “He is right though.” _Stay, Cally. _

“I have no change of clothes, here.”

“We’ll help you out with a robe.”

“Vila,” Avon said, with light reproach, “why don’t _you _put on a robe and fetch Cally a change of clothes from her cabin.”

“Fine. I might be a Delta, but I can be a gentleman, you know? What would you like, Cally?”

She told him and watched him leave with the same quiet amusement that she could sense echoed by Avon. Once the door had closed behind him, she turned back to Avon, who was still sitting on the bed, his arms draped across his knees.

“Are you really all right?”

“Well, now I didn’t say that,” he retorted, but a smile played about his lips. “But yes, under the circumstances. I have a suspicion what happened to those scientists from Gamma Trios, however, that I don’t like one bit – oh, and Cally?”

“Yes?”

“Vila can be… shall we say, refreshingly forward? If you want to wait…”

“I _have _showered with men before, Avon.”

He grinned. “Why yes, of course.”

She felt his mischievous mirth spark through their telepathic communion, and retaliated with a gentle playful push

_Hey, you’re not starting without me! _Vila protested and a moment later slipped in through the door. “Should have known,” he grumbled, a teasing glint in his eyes when he found them just as before, and carefully passed Cally’s clothes to her before suddenly darting off into the bathroom. “Last person in the shower has to sleep on the chair next night!”

Cally had not lied – she had shared showers with men, before, but it had been a case of convenience, not desire. Among battle companions, a common shower space was the smallest invasion of privacy, and usually those who felt uncomfortable if genders were mixed were accommodated somehow, too. Cally’s sensitivities had always been different from those of her human companions – she had never been self-conscious about her nakedness, and she knew that she could kill anyone who touched her without her permission, even barehanded. She didn’t understand why it should matter who was in the same shower room with her otherwise. Jenna had been equally desensitised when it came to showering – as far as she had told Cally, she had been even before her time in prison and on the _London_, owning to her smuggling career. She and Cally had showered together on the _Liberator_, occasionally, if they had returned from a planet that wreaked havoc with their hair. And Cally had seen both Avon and Vila naked, of course, during her duties in the medical unit – it was difficult to maintain modesty when all of them had endured injuries that had needed tending. From a practical perspective, then, she had been prepared. Intellectually, she had also been aware that, even if this particular shower was not a precursor to sexual intercourse, the communal washing would be different, between romantic partners.

She had not quite been prepared for the awe Vila displayed towards her, touching her with near-reference as he helped her disrobe. She found the awe charming and disarming.

_I can’t believe this is real, _Vila sent, his mental voice nearly a whisper, and if she had had any doubts that he had truly wanted her in the relationship, and not just for Avon’s sake, it vanished when Vila allowed her to pull him into a gentle kiss.

Avon seemed to approach the situation a little more prosaically. He stepped deftly around them as the kiss deepened, already undressed, and adjusted the shower controls. “We don’t have all day,” he drawled, but Cally – and Vila, too, she had to remind herself – could sense his amusement, like an undercurrent in their unshielded telepathic communion.

Vila broke gently away from her, his hand resting unselfconsciously on her shoulder. “Feeling neglected, eh?”

“No,” Avon said and turned his back to them, moving under the shower spray. 

But Vila threw her a glance and she remembered what he had said about Avon’s need for physical contact. She left Vila to slip out of his shorts and stepped up behind Avon, laying a gentle hand against the small of his back. For a moment, she felt him stiffen, then the tension melted away.

“Cally,” he said, very softly, not turning around.

“I think I have been volunteered for a massage?” she tenderly ran her hands over his back, as she had done so many times before when checking him for injuries, noting the areas that were knotted with tension.

“Not now,” he responded, though there was regret in his voice. He turned around, catching her hand. Holding her gaze with mesmerizing intensity, he lifted her hand and pressed a kiss against her wrist, barely more than a brush of his lips. Water dripped from his hair unto her skin.

“Saying no to the beautiful lady? For shame, Avon!” Vila squeezed by them, gently moving Cally a little to the side by the shoulders so he could get under the water.

Avon lowered their hands, but his fingers were slow to let go of her fully. _Another time, _he sent, making to turn away – but Vila wrapped his arms around him from behind, waving a bottle with shower lotion at Cally through the spray.

“Here. ‘s unscented anyway ‘cause Avon likes it like that.” He rested his head on Avon’s shoulder, free hand splayed proprietary over Avon’s stomach.

They were nearly the same size, Cally realised – she had always believed Vila to be shorter, and yet Avon could lean back against Vila without any risk of overbalancing. Avon held out his hand again, palm up. “Let me?”

She looked at the bottle in her hand – it was unmarked, of course. They could hardly walk into the stores to buy market products. Ever since she had come onto the _Liberator_, they had relied on Zen for basic supplies, including hygiene articles. “I have needed a special product for my hair,” she told them, “to manage the curls.”

Avon smiled, his free hand curling over Vila’s, the other held unwavering before her. “I know.”

Of course he did – Avon had been the one who had programmed Zen to produce the things they so desperately needed. Jenna had _delighted _in telling stories of the early days, when things had been… a little rough around the edges.

“It’s fine, Cally. Avon has delicate hair, too,” Vila piped up with a smirk, ruffling Avon’s hair with his unoccupied hand – and receiving a light kick against his shin for his troubles.

Avon’s smile never faltered, and Vila’s pout and grumbled protest was clearly exaggerated.

Cally shook her head fondly and poured some of the lotion into Avon’s waiting hand. He pulled away from Vila, who snatched back the bottle to lather up his own hair, letting him go. Avon rubbed his hands together briskly, building up a slight foam. Cally turned her back, brushing her wet hair behind her shoulder, and sighed when his fingers begun to gently massage her scalp.

Distantly, suddenly, she heard a soft chime.

_Hm, Tarrant getting impatient, _Vila sent, his head fully under the stream of water.

_Let him wait_, was Avon’s response.

Cally could not have agreed more.

Clean, freshly dressed and fed, they all, Cally thought, looked a lot better than they had the evening before. Even she felt better equipped to handle Tarrant and the flight deck. She had barely experienced any of the horrors of Theta Trios, and their bond gave little away – she could only hope that the other two had found the morning and the night’s rest equally as refreshing.

“Flight status?” Avon asked briskly when they arrived at the flight deck, quickly taking the steps.

“Finally decided to grace us with your presence again?” Tarrant shot back. “We’ve been pulling double-shifts, Avon–”

Avon waved him into silence. “Zen, flight status.”

“_Liberator _is in stationary orbit around the planet designated Theta Trios. All systems nominal.”

“We’re _still _here?” Vila queried, displeased.

“Yes,” Tarrant said defiantly.

“I assume the station is also still down there,” Avon murmured, leaning against his chair in thought.

“Yes!” Tarrant bent forward over his console, trying and failing to catch Avon’s gaze. “If there is only one guard robot down there, shouldn’t we investigate? An unmanned Federation installation – we might never have a chance like this again.”

“No. None of us will set foot there again.”

“Look, Avon, I realise you had a bad few hours down there, but–”

“Where is Orac?”

“Still in the teleport unit. We haven’t exactly had the time–”

“Yes, all right, you’ve made your point.” Avon finally turned towards Tarrant. “Get some sleep, Tarrant, and tell Dayna to stay in bed, too. We’ll wake you before we decide anything.”

Tarrant frowned, displeased and faintly suspicious, but a glance into his eyes told Cally that he was just tired enough to do as Avon had asked without protest. “I’ll count on it, Avon,” he said, sharply, and headed out.

A wry smile was playing about Avon’s lips. “Vila, fetch Orac, would you? I have a thing or two I need to ask it.”

Ordinarily, Vila would have protested, but with only the three of them there, he didn’t bother.

Avon settled into his station, shooting her a fleeting glance when she moved to his side. “Do you think we are in danger here?” she asked.

“From the facility down there? No. Any defence mechanisms that could reach us in orbit we must already have dealt with. The question remains whether the station is still monitored remotely. It will do no harm to keep alert.”

“Have you found anything in the files from Gamma Trios?”

Avon shook his head, his fingers brushing against the edge of his other hand in a gesture that had become very familiar to her over the years. “No – I have barely had the chance to look at them. That is why I need Orac.”

“Well, here you have him,” came Vila’s voice from the entrance. “Bloody big plastic box. I swear he’s getting heavier.”

“Perhaps you are getting out of practice,” Avon teased half-heartedly, stepping to the front of the flight deck to slide in Orac’s key. Cally followed half a step behind.

“A question, Orac.”

“Yes?” Orac replied waspishly.

Avon left one hand resting on Orac’s casing, turning slightly towards Vila, the other hand lifted in thought. “Were you able to determine what happened to the staff on Gamma Trios from the computer data?”

“No.”

“So he doesn’t know?” Vila asked.

“I didn’t say that,” Orac snapped at him, sounding for all the world more testy than usual.

Vila frowned. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Avon’s finger tapped lightly against his lip. “It knows – just not from the Gamma Trios files. I thought as much.”

“Why, then, must you waste my time with senseless questions?”

“What happened to the scientists, Orac?” Cally asked, though she got the impression from Avon that she might not want to know.

“They perished in the course of experiments carried out and documented by the computers on Theta Trios,” Orac answered, sharply and mercilessly. “Once they had determined a way to instil telepathy in humans–”

“– they became the prime test subjects,” Avon concluded grimly. “Why was the programme stopped, Orac?”

“Unknown.”

“Damn.”

“Is there any chance we’d find out by going back down?” Cally asked.

“Do what Tarrant wants? No thanks,” from Vila.

Avon shook his head slowly. “Orac?”

“_If _the information had been stored on a computer, I would have been able to locate it. There are no complex machines without tarriel cells on Theta Trios. Therefore, unless–”

“Unless there are non-computer based records, there is no point in going back down.”

“Precisely. Further, as the station is entirely automated–”

“The existence of non-computer based records is unlikely.” Avon turned away from them with a slight pat on Orac’s casing, pacing away a few steps. Cally could sense him thinking, though she couldn’t pick up any precise thoughts – similarly to that very first contact between them, back when they were still in the station on Gamma Trios. For a brief, terrifying moment, she feared that it was a sign that their telepathy, so steady over the last few days, was fading, after all – but then she felt Avon’s sudden realisation with astonishing clarity, like a ray of sunlight breaking out from between clouds, and put her fears to rest.

“Ah,” Avon said, with a deep inhale. “Orac – do we _know _that the programme has been stopped?”

“No. No known records exist of this project beyond the files you have salvaged from Gamma Trios, as I have told you already.”

Avon spun back around, his face grim. “Vila, I want you at the long range scanners.”

“Right.” Vila slipped away, taking his station and running a reading. “Nothing.”

Avon nodded, never glancing towards him. “A speculation, then, Orac. Assuming the programme has _not_, in fact, been stopped, and that we merely happen to arrive between… test subjects, and assuming, further, that all test subjects have died or been killed – would it be possible that you have missed references to the ongoing experimentation if it has been encrypted?”

Orac’s buzzing rose a little in pitch. “Yes. I have searched for all relevant key terms, but if those have been kept off the records, it is possible that I have not yet located the relevant information.”

“New search parameters, then. Start with the transport, Orac – any ships making runs into this system – any _prison_ ships, in particular, or ships that made planetfall on _any _planet of the system. Find out their mission details and get me some data about the purpose of this project.”

Orac didn’t reply, but Cally could tell from his sounds that he was already at work.

“It can’t be that important, surely? If they leave it unguarded like this?” Vila chimed in.

“Three pursuit ships, unmanned or not, are enough to deter most vessels.” Avon settled down on the flight deck sofa. “Cally. I know the Auronar were pacifists, but do you have any idea what use telepathy would be to the Federation?”

She sat by him. _As a weapon? _

“As a weapon, yes – or as a means of interrogation. Or…” Avon paused, and she could feel his revulsion. “… as a means of capital punishment.”

There was a flash of terror from Vila at that.

“Orac – before you get too deeply into your research, answer me one more thing,” Avon said, leaning forward ever so slightly towards the computer.

“What is it?”

“Assuming an average human, for how long could one withstand the kind of overload I was subjected to on the planet?”

“Assuming no previous knowledge of torture or sensory regulation but good health, for no more than twenty-four hours,” Orac answered primly.

Cally’s gasp sounded overly loud in the silence that abruptly fell over the flight deck at the pronouncement. 

_How long were we down there? _Vila asked, horror echoing through his mental voice.

_I am unsure. Several hours. _Cally scanned Avon’s stony expression uneasily. She could feel the beginnings of shielding – the energy it was costing him not to. _I am sorry, Avon. _

He shook his head. “It wasn’t your fault. But it does raise the question whether the purpose was to kill me, or whether it is simply part of the experimentation. The benefits of putting a station into the atmosphere of a gas giant – no one will ever find the bodies.” Avon pushed to his feet with a sour grin. “Anything on the sensors, Vila?”

“No, nothing.”

“You are expecting company.”

“Yes – if the station is still active, it is being monitored remotely. They might not know who we are, yet, but they know we are here, and possibly also that we have destroyed their guard dogs. It might get very hot around here, very quickly.” Avon stepped up to the central console, his fingers moving over the instruments. “We better shake Tarrant and Dayna awake sooner rather than later.”

“Avon, let’s blow the station up and get out of here!”

“Not yet.”

“Why not?!”

_Because I want to know if anything down there will stop _this, _Vila_, Avon sent, effectively ending the argument.


	4. Chapter 4

Waiting, once more.

Cally had never been one to take waiting lightly – she preferred action, and there was only so much time that could be passed in fruitful meditation and rest. When it became evident that there were no ships in the immediate vicinity, she excused herself to catch a few hours of real sleep, alone in her cabin, just to escape the tediousness. She was used to hiding her restlessness well from the others; it was a change to feel Avon’s commiserating amusement and Vila’s gentle caring in response.

The two had remained on the flight deck, sharing the watch. Dayna and Tarrant had been apprised of the risk of ships, but, like Cally, remained on rest until the sensors showed an acute threat. On edge, Cally expected to be called onto the flight deck by an alarm, by the threat of pursuit ships – as it was, it was Avon’s calm voice in the intercom that brought them all back to the flight deck.

Vila was at his station, still keeping an eye on the sensors, and Tarrant was just stepping up to the pilot station when Cally arrived. Dayna had settled expectantly on the sofa, her eyes on Avon, who stood waiting by Orac, his gaze distant. He glanced towards her briefly when she sat down next to Dayna, then turned towards Vila.

“Sensors?” he asked.

“All clear,” Vila reported.

“What are we expecting, Avon?” Tarrant asked sharply. “What are we doing here expect putting a strain on our energy reserves with the long-range sensors?”

“We are close to a sun; the systems can handle it.” Avon rested his hand on Orac. “Orac has some findings that you should all hear.” He slotted the key in place. “Go ahead, Orac.”

“The project is code-named Ianus, a two-faced deity from the times of the Old Calendar said to be a patron of doorways,” Orac began officiously.

Cally sensed Vila’s amusement and hushed him telepathically before Avon could do more than twitch an eyebrow.

“Its goal,” Orac carried on, unaware of the byplay, “is to instrumentalise artificially induced telepathy to facilitate the interrogation and re-education of criminals, in particular scientists and political dissidents. Unshielded telepathy makes the subjects particular receptive to certain techniques of torture, and, in theory, facilitates memory erasure and conditioning.”

An uncomfortable hush fell over the flight deck.

“In theory, Orac?” Avon prompted softly.

“All present subjects have perished during the torture phase of the experiment or from the inability of their systems to cope with the telepathy before any extraction of information or conditioning could be attempted. The tight time frame of survival prompted the creation of the Theta Trios facility, but the subjects’ inability to survive the suggested torture methods has led to a lack of results. Funding for the programme was cut, though the facilities have been kept operational and occasional new experiments are sanctioned. The last experiment of this nature was carried out two standard years ago.”

“This is all very nasty,” Tarrant said, “but what is it to us? We might as well blow the facilities up and have one less Federation project to worry about. Simple as that.”

“_Not_ so simple, I’m afraid,” Avon said, grimacing.

“_If _I may be permitted to finish,” Orac snapped. “File histories show a renewed interest in the Ianus project within the last months, possibly following the destruction of the planet Auron and the reminder of the telepathic ability of the Auronar to President Servalan.”

“Servalan!” Dayna exclaimed.

“The files,” the computer went on as if she hadn’t interrupted, “also suggest that the last subjects, taken from Theta Trios before torture was commenced, expired in a prison facility on Kelore a standard month ago. The cause of death was listed as natural causes, but evidence indicates that their death was either a direct result of the induced telepathy – though the two subjects survived longer than any of their predecessors, possibly because they were held together. Their demise may also be connected to the visit of President Servalan to the Kelore prison complex shortly before.”

“So Servalan has taken an interest. What does it matter?” Tarrant, of course, had no knowledge of the fact that telepathy had been induced in two of his crewmates. Cally bit back her irritation in favour of sending reassurances Vila’s way before the thief could say something he would regret later.

“I’d say Servalan’s involvement is reason enough for us!” Dayna argued.

“Quite,” Avon said. “Who, do you imagine, will come to check why the facility was activated?”

Tarrant leant back in his seat with an explosively sigh. “Forgive me if I’m being dense–” he glowered when a chortle escaped Vila “– but _why_, exactly, are we still here? If we had blown the station up as I suggested, we could be millions of spatials away by now, and if anyone does come to check, they’ll be none the wiser. Besides, the facility made no transmissions. We were monitoring all frequencies. Even if Servalan _is _interested in the project, she can’t know anything has happened without data.”

“True – but precisely that is the issue.” Avon sat on the sofa next to Cally. “As the station is fully automated, an unusual design decision was made during its construction. In short, Theta Trios is a direct network facility.”

“What does that mean?” Dayna asked.

“It means that the computer data is simultaneously stored here and on the central servers on Earth,” Vila said, to the surprise of Tarrant and Dayna. Cally merely smiled, recalling their past attempt to penetrate a different full-access facility, when they had been with Blake.

“So they don’t need transmissions,” Tarrant said.

“Yes, precisely.”

“But I thought there were only a handful direct network facilities this far out, because of the security risk?”

“The rebels knew of four when we last explored full-access facilities,” Avon mused, crossing his arms leisurely. “Between the rebel efforts, the destruction of Star One and the discovery of this one, I suppose the number is now three.”

“So,” Dayna began slowly, “if someone checks the data, they will know we’re here?”

“Yes,” Avon said levelly. If Cally hadn’t been able to sense his tension, she would have been fooled by his calm façade. “They will know _precisely _who was here. So even if we run now, leaving nothing but rubble behind, we won’t erase our trail.”

“So we use the direct network link to get past Earth’s firewall defences, delete the data both from the central server and the facility down there. End the programme here and now and get whatever tactical information we can in the progress.”

“Not possible,” Avon snapped.

Tarrant’s temper flared. “Why not!? You claim to be an expert with computers!”

“Because,” Cally interjected placatingly, “we have tried before, before your time, Tarrant, Dayna. It proved impossible. We ended up destroying the entire computer system instead.”

“Oh yes,” Avon said, with a bitter curl of his lips, “only we weren’t really interested in the data then; depriving the Federation of one of their deep space direct network access points was enough. Things are a little different, now. Even if I do nothing but access this data set, Servalan herself will know; any manipulation or deletion will be impossible. The only thing we can do, short of setting a trap right here and hoping to kill Servalan when she inevitably arrives with a squadron of pursuit ships–”

_I don’t like that plan_, Vila telepathed and Avon’s lips twitched.

“Short of an impossibly long shot, then,” Avon continued, “the only thing we can do is render the information stored invalid.”

“How? You just said the data couldn’t be manipulated.”

“It can’t,” Avon agreed.

“Well, then?”

“If a computer receives two sets of contradicting data, what happens?”

“It will attempt to resolve the conflict,” Cally said, trying to follow.

“Precisely. And if it cannot?”

“A paradox?” Dayna queried.

“Yes – so how will it determine which dataset is correct?”

“Request a third set of data, and see which it fits,” Tarrant concluded triumphantly.

“Exactly, assuming that is possible – but even if it were, the _reason _for the original contradiction will become impossible to determine. An AI like Zen or Orac might take temporality into account – that something may de facto have changed between both data entries – but Theta Trios operates on a pure data depository level. It will be unable to determine _why _the two dataset contradict each other. Even if a human operator speculates about the cause, without additional proof, without possibility of acquiring a third dataset and with a little bit of luck on our side, there will always be a doubt of whether the facility developed a fault, corrupting the centrally stored data. And once the facility is destroyed, a technical investigation will become impossible. ” Avon came to his feet. “Fortunately for us, the facilities on _Gamma _Trios are not network linked. Zen, set a course and orbit approach back to Gamma Trios. If we can do this before Servalan arrives, we may just draw into doubt all data of project Ianus transferred via Theta Trios. That, in addition to the destruction of these facilities, may just put an end to the project for good.”

“But how will you produce a contradictory data set, if the files can’t be manipulated?” Dayna asked.

“Leave that to me. Let’s just hope I have enough time.” 

“So we will blow this station up?” Vila asked.

“_Theta _Trios, yes – but not just yet. First, we will have to make sure that there is no evidence that we have ever been to _Gamma _Trios. We shall have to go back down, Cally, Vila.”

“Fine,” Tarrant said, “Dayna and I will just keep an eye out for this flotilla, then. This plan sounds just complicated enough to actually work.”

Avon grinned. “I shall take that as a compliment.”

When they gathered in the teleport unit, Cally’s suspicion that Avon had not voiced all parts of his plan became a certainty. Vila, snapping on his teleport bracelet, had been grumbling mentally to himself about the plan sounding dangerous somehow – based, Cally thought, on the same unease about what Avon had not told them that Cally had felt. Cally stepped down the stairs to join them just as Avon said, “It _is _dangerous. We shall have to go back down into that station on _Theta _Trios, too.”

“What! But we’ll get caught again!” _And tortured! _

“That is the idea,” Avon said, snapping his own teleport bracelet shut. _I’ll explain when we’re down. _

_I don’t like this, Avon! _

_You’d like it even less if Servalan had proof of our telepathy. _“Ready, Cally?”

“I’m ready.” _But I too would like that explanation. _

“Orac, teleport.”

Avon remained close-lipped until they were inside the computer central of the station once more and he was setting up. They had passed through the airlock without incident this time – clearly, the sensors had been able to recognise their telepathy – and Avon had rapidly set to work on the now-familiar system. “The only way,” he said, speaking aloud, “as even Tarrant has realised, to introduce a new dataset into the Theta Trios computer without it being immediately rejected as false is by using the station’s own data gathering facility. Servalan _will _know that we have been there twice, and she is intelligent enough to work out _why_, but she won’t be able to do anything against doubts about data integrity once the station is destroyed.”

“But how can going there again change what data the station has on us?” Vila asked, toying with the data blocks Avon had already discarded.

Avon paused for a moment to look up at both of them. “If, for instance, we were no longer telepathic.”

“_How_?”

“Remember, there will be no evidence the _Liberator _ever got close to this place, if we can finish here before any ships arrive. I don’t leave any traces. As far as the data stored here goes, we will not have visited Gamma Trios; consequently, we cannot have become telepathic. Yet the first set of data gathered by the _Theta _Trios facility indicates that we are. If the _second _set says that we are not, and there remains no possibility of acquiring a third set of data…”

“A paradox,” Cally completed hesitantly.

“Yes. All we need. Thankfully for us, a general observer will be more likely to believe that, without having been to Gamma Trios, a human is non-telepathic, and consequently the _first _set of data is wrong, indicating a fault in the system.”

“But we _are _telepathic, Avon!”

“I know!” Avon pressed a key on the console with slightly unnecessary force. “And as far as the Ianus project data is concerned, there is no way to remove telepathy once induced – not that an effort has been made to do so. All subjects died far too rapidly for that, and there was no particular interest in preserving their lives.”

Vila threw up his hands. “Well, I’m sorry, but that seems like a rather big flaw in your plan, Avon!”

“I agree with Vila,” Cally said, trying to read Avon’s intentions from the transmissions trickling through their communion – but they showed nothing but steely determination.

Avon finished a line of code, then inserted a data cube and turned back towards them while the computer worked. “Orac found something else, researching Auronar telepathy. It says that a common punishment to deter further criminal activity is the temporary suppression of all telepathic ability. Is that right, Cally?”

“It _was_, in my youth. It has been considered too barbaric in recent years. The crime rate on Auron was very low, at any rate.”

“So a temporary suppression of telepathy is possible,” Avon pressed, making her uneasy.

“Yes, it is possible, but it is extremely painful even for a trained Auron.” _Avon, I don’t like this_.

Avon’s jaw tightened. “It’s the only way.”

_Painful? _from Vila.

“There is no precedent for what the process might do to a human,” Cally said. She knew she would not sway him with rationality, but she could try – she didn’t want to do this.

“I realise that,” Avon said, and for a moment she wasn’t sure whether he was answering her words or her thought, involuntarily transmitted. Avon glanced briefly at the computer, confirming the progress, and kept his gaze averted afterwards. “_Could_ you do it, Cally?”

“I know the technique, but you do not realise what you are asking…”

_Cally, would you rather the Federation knew about Vila’s and my telepathy? If we do not do this, _Servalan _will know. She may still suspect, even after all this. _“This is the only way,” Avon said again, out loud.

“You don’t need me to do this, do you, Avon?” Vila asked, but Cally could sense that he already knew better.

Avon shook his head. “It has to be both of us.” _There is no choice. Do you think _I _would do it if there were?_

Cally acknowledged that thought unhappily, even knowing that he was right. “It can be done, but we must time it precisely, just as the station becomes aware of you. I shall have to be down there with you.”

Avon shook his head. “Orac has confirmed that the guard robots only employ the telepathy detector spacially. There is only one official point of entry to the Theta Trios facilities – the docking area – and the telepathy detector there functions to separate incidental arrivals and guards from prisoners when they first enter the station. If we teleport directly into the inner sector of the facility, the systems will assume that we have been vetted already and are telepathic by default – until the machines scan us, of course. It gives us a little more leeway – I should hate to have the plan go awry because we were a few seconds off.” Avon grinned mirthlessly, tapping his fingers against the console as he waited for his programme to run its course. “How long does the telepathy block normally last?”

“No more than a few hours, but that is with naturally born telepaths. It may be considerably more effective,” Cally stated carefully.

Avon looked up sharply, meeting her gaze. “You mean it may be permanent.”

_Yes_, she admitted meekly, feeling disgusted for her weakness, her fear of being alone again. Avon was right – it _was _the only way. They didn’t have a choice.

Suddenly, Vila’s arms wrapped around her. _Oh, Cally, don’t be sad. We’d still be there for you. _

“I know that.” She patted his arm, blinking away traitorous tears. “Thank you, both. I know it is the only way.”

Avon smiled faintly. Cally found his cynic calm absurdly reassuring. “I wouldn’t subject Vila and myself to torture if it wasn’t,” he said and turned back to the computer.

The long-range sensors were still clear when they teleported back on board the _Liberator_, leaving Gamma Trios behind with no evidence of having ever been there. En route, Avon explained to Dayna and Tarrant that Vila and he would teleport down to the Theta Trios station, let themselves be captured long enough for the system to record their data, and then expect to be rescued.

Cally could see that Tarrant wanted to ask questions, but he kept his silence, bowing to Avon’s vehemence and urgency. Sooner rather than later, they would have to explain to them – or perhaps…

“I will temporarily create the impression that Avon and Vila have become telepathic,” Cally lied. “Previous data will show that they were not, and there will be no evidence that we had contact with any other facilities linked to the Ianus project, thus creating the contradiction we need.”

Tarrant nodded his understanding, completely missing the look of appreciative surprise Avon sent her way. Tarrant had not understood why Avon and Vila had been separated from Dayna before, and Dayna also seemed not to suspect – and why would they? Perhaps the notion that her crewmates might be telepathic was natural to Cally; it certainly was not to her human companions. If what they were about to do resulted in a total loss of Avon and Vila’s artificial telepathy, at least their privacy would be preserved, and she would be able to mourn the loss in private.

“You and Dayna will come to get us out once the countdown is up,” Avon said to Tarrant, “it is probably better if Cally remains on board.” Behind Tarrant’s back, he shot her a sudden roguish grin, and Cally felt Vila’s amusement, feeling immediately better. It was reassuring how easily they were able to lift her spirits, with so few words and gestures, without, even, the touch of their minds. She only hoped that what she was about to do would not destroy _that _bond between them.

“Well, we better get kitted up, then,” Tarrant stepped down from his console. “The sensors are clear and Zen can handle the orbit on automatics. How long do you need to prepare?”

“A few moments only – in private,” Cally said.

“Right. Meet you in the teleport when you’re done.”

They retreated to a disused cabin that Avon had used as a workroom occasionally, Avon with his shoulders squared with more determination than he really felt, Vila with trepidation lingering on his expression, and Cally herself… Well, she could not deny her reluctance, her fear of being alone again, her fear for her partners’ safety, but she could draw from Avon’s determination, however fake it may be. It was the only way.

_I shall have to shield before I do this, _she told them, _it will be easier if you try to do the same. _

Avon laid a hand gently onto her arm, a gesture of intimacy and reassurance he would never have allowed himself in public. _Remember, Cally, _no _telepathy is our natural state. It need not be as big a violation as you fear. _

Cally met his gaze for a moment, then tore herself away both physically and mentally. It was better to sever her connection to their communion now, before she could lose her nerve. She telepathed _at_ them as if they were non-telepaths, _Vila, I want you to go first. _

“What?! Why me?” Vila protested immediately. He was inching instinctively closer to Avon, Cally noted. She didn’t have to reach out to feel that neither of them had shielded, not effectively – perhaps they could not, perhaps their fear prevented them from letting go of the other’s support. It was as it should be, between telepaths, and what she was about to do was an abomination – but, as Avon had said, they were no telepaths. Perhaps they would be able to cope better with the loneliness. Perhaps they would be able to forgive her.

“You will both have your turn. It will be better this way,” Cally said to Vila, briefly catching Avon’s all-too-knowing gaze – but she wasn’t sure whether he really understood. “Avon, please step back.”

He did with a nod, leaving Vila alone to face her. Vila looked nervous. “You won’t even promise that it won’t hurt?”

Cally knew only too well that it would be a false promise, and that Vila would only be angry at her if she promised painlessness and lied. “Give me your hands,” she said instead, briskly, expecting his hesitation.

So, apparently, had Avon, who leant against the wall behind Vila. “Get on with it,” he said with a sneer, “or do you want more time to be afraid?”

Vila sighed. “All right, all right. Here.” He laid his hands into Cally’s outstretched palms and she struck swiftly, the minute the contact was made, forcing his thoughts in on themselves, creating an impenetrable wall against the outside world.

It only lasted a split second, but she was still aware of Vila’s fearful flinch, his instinctual reaching out, and, achingly, of _Avon’s _sudden, involuntary cry of “Vila!”

She tore her hands away, meeting Avon’s horror-stricken expression, and flung up her mental shields as firmly as she could even as she wanted nothing more than to reach out and reassure him.

Vila, too, had heard Avon cry out, and spun around just in time to catch some of the reaction on Avon’s expression before it was wrenched firmly back into control. “Avon?” He stepped tentatively closer. “I’m all right, see? It didn’t even hurt.”

Cally didn’t know whether he was lying – that unexpected bravery that was so typical for Vila, for her benefit, for Avon’s benefit – or whether the fact that oral communication was so natural to him helped compensate for the loss, but she knew what Avon had felt, could see it in the stiffness of his posture. The severing of telepathic contact – it felt like death.

But there was no time now to talk about it.

Predictably, Avon evaded Vila’s touch, stepping up to Cally. “We better get on with it.” He held out his hands to her without hesitation, but when she touched him, she found them cold and clammy. She gave them a firm squeeze, then _got on with it_.

Avon said nothing after it was done, merely withdrew his hands with a deep sigh.

“See? Not so bad, after all,” Vila prompted, sidling close, and, this time, Avon accepted the contact. “Cally needn’t feel bad about this, right?”

“No,” Avon said, a rough catch to his voice. “We’d better leave, in case it doesn’t last. Remember, Cally, no more than half an hour from now.”

“We’ll remember.”

Cally watched them shimmer from view with trepidation. If she had been sensitive to Avon and Vila’s state of mind before they had received telepathy, their newfound closeness had attuned her even more to them both, even without their telepathic communion. Vila was putting on an unexpectedly brave face, to cover his own anxiety, and Avon remained tight-lipped, stiff-shouldered – still dealing with the reaction of what he had felt from Vila. Cally had chosen for him to go second because she had known that he would be able to handle it, while it might have driven Vila away entirely – but she was concerned for him all the same, and was grateful that Vila had kept up a steady flow of meaningless chatter right up until the moment they teleported away.

“We are down,” Avon reported softly from the station, “we’ll leave the teleport bracelets at these coordinates as agreed; remember to pick them up when you come for us.”

“We know the plan, Avon,” Tarrant responded.

“Good.”

“Good luck!” Cally called out, just as the connection cut off.

She found herself staring blindly at the console while Tarrant paced and Dayna toyed with her weapon, seated on the steps to the teleport unit. Orac had been instructed to raise the alarm if anything showed on the sensors, and in the meantime all they could do was wait for the countdown to run its course.

Half an hour – it didn’t seem too terribly long, but Cally couldn’t help but imagine that, even now, Avon and Vila might be caught by the station robots, might be conveyed to the research and torture facilities – might already be tortured. Avon might experience a shock reaction from having been severed from Vila, and Vila might fully begin to realise what was missing, now that he had cause to be alone and afraid… And she didn’t even dare reach out to them, to send reassurances as she might have to any of her non-telepathic crewmates. The telepathic block had never been tried on humans, on artificial telepathy, and there was no data to indicate what might happen. A direct telepathic contact might break through the block she had placed on their ability, and then all the effort would have been in vain.

“Right,” Tarrant announced finally. “Time’s up. Dayna, get ready.” He picked up the portable life sign detector and stepped back into the teleport alcove. “Put us down, Cally.”

She did, her heartbeat counting out the seconds before Tarrant confirmed their arrival.

“Down and safe. We have their bracelets, the detector is working. We’ll be in touch.”

Cally would have preferred for him to keep the channel open, but Tarrant had cut the contact before she could object, and so she was condemned, once more, to waiting. She held her hands poised readily over the controls, awaiting Orac to give the alarm at any moment, awaiting them to call in.

When they did, it was Dayna, sounding breathless: “Cally, we’ve got them, bring us up!”

Dayna and Tarrant materialised looking ready to fire; Avon and Vila – who had gone down without weapons – were shielded behind them, Avon’s arm around Vila who cradled his right arm tightly to his chest.

Cally came to her feet, immediately dropping her shields and reaching out – finding nothing but silence. “Are you all right?!” she finally asked out loud, letting concern overtake her fear.

“Passably,” Avon spat. He dropped his arm away from Vila and reached to unclasp Vila’s bracelet, then his own. “It was successful, I think. The restraint bot dislocated Vila’s shoulder.”

“It hurts,” Vila complained, his teeth clenched. There were tear tracks on his cheeks, though his eyes were dry now.

“Don’t worry, Vila,” Tarrant said, irritably, “the thing will be blown sky-high soon, along with the rest of the station.”

“We’ll take you both to the medical unit, Vila, Avon,” Cally decided, needing to be alone with them, needing to know…

But Avon had other ideas, and now he could not sense her distress. He brushed her off. “I’m fine. Take Vila down, I’ll be there once the facility has been destroyed. Tarrant, Dayna – let’s open fire before the Federation gets here.”

Cally had expected to have to force Avon into a check-up once she had tended to Vila, but he surprised her by showing up just as she had given Vila a light painkiller and had set to work with the regenerator. Thankfully, she hadn’t needed to relocate the shoulder – Avon, Vila had said, had done it on the planet, when they’d been thrown into a cell together.

“Well?” Avon asked as he stepped into the medical unit. There was an air of muted satisfaction about him, but his tone was one of concern.

“Nothing the regenerator cannot mend,” Cally told him, sending a slight smile at Vila, who still looked unhappy about it all.

“Damned bots. Should have taken them apart when we were down there the first time,” Vila muttered.

“You shouldn’t have struggled so much,” Avon said, though his eyes were checking Vila over with barely concealed concern.

“I didn’t! It was hurting me!”

“It is gone now, at any rate.”

“Did the plan work, then?” Cally cut in.

“Yes,” Avon answered evenly. “They wouldn’t have put us in a cell together in the outer complex if it hadn’t. When they caught us, the station tried to resume the previous experiments, but stopped immediately. There can be no other reason than that it worked; we no longer register as telepathic.”

“I’d say we weren’t hurt but it wouldn’t be true,” Vila quipped, a sign that he was starting to feel better. “But don’t go blaming yourself, Cally.”

“Let Blake maintain his monopoly on pointless guilt on this ship,” Avon added, leaning against a second bed. “Theta Trios is no more – a satisfying little explosion – and soon we will be far away.”

_A monopoly, Avon? _Cally sent at him and swallowed her disappointment when she received no reply, nor any sign that Avon had heard her. “No sign of the Federation?” she asked.

“Yes, but they are far out still. It seems Servalan didn’t have her troops ready. By the time they get here, there will be no way to determine where we have gone. So far, of course, the telepathy hasn’t come back. Perhaps we have found a handy solution to that problem, as well.”

“Seems a bit anticlimactic, if you ask me,” Vila said, gingerly rolling his shoulder. “I think it’s all right now, Cally.”

“It will still be a little tender and sore, once the painkiller wears off,” she warned him, but gave him space to slide off the bed. She kept her gaze adverted, unhappy with Avon’s judgement of their telepathy as a _problem_, even though it had been. She told herself that it would have ended, sooner or later, and better it be through an easy process than by her partners’ pain and suffering.

“That’s all right, I have two of you to take care of me now.” Vila grinned cheekily first at her, petting her arm, then shifted his gaze to Avon.

“If you wanted to be coddled, you might have picked different partners,” Avon said, but there was a smile curling his lips, though his eyes remained serious. “Are _you_ all right, Cally?”

She straightened, squaring her shoulders. “Yes. It is foolish to expect your telepathy to return so soon.”

Avon stepped closer. “I meant, will you be all right if it does not?”

Perhaps she should have expected him to know, now that he had experienced what it felt to have Vila seemingly torn from his perception, but she was still surprised by the question and found herself leaning into his shoulder, his arm coming around her while Vila hovered at her side.

“I shall miss it,” she told them wearily, the physical closeness an unexpected balm. “But I seem to have gained something that may be less detrimental to both your health, over time.”

Avon pressed a silent kiss to the crown of her head, then let her go to allow Vila to pull them both into a gentle embrace.

“It has been over a day,” Cally observed, fighting to steady her voice. She was leaning against Vila, who gently ran a brush through her hair, appearing to enjoy what for Cally had always been a chore, but her attention had been far away. She had tried to listen out, tried to find her fellow telepaths in her partners, but there hadn’t been a shred of communication between them for too long a time, and she could no longer conceal her fear. She had never been so close to the two of them – but yet…

Avon appeared in the door to the bathroom at her words, his hair still wet from the shower and uncommonly spiky from being towelled off. “So it has. I take it that’s an indication the telepathy might not be coming back?”

“It would be a cause for concern in my people,” Cally said carefully, sitting up and taking the brush from Vila rather abruptly, feeling the need for distance even as she feared her solitude. Alone, once more, and forever. “Thank you, that will do.”

“I was enjoying that,” Vila protested half-heartedly. “Mind you, I wouldn’t want to have to do it for myself every day. Perhaps there is some benefit to this,” he tapped his own high hairline with a grin, “after all.”

“Vila, I don’t think your distractions are working,” Avon cut in, folding the towel he was holding. “Remember, Cally, that this is normal for us – the last few days were not.”

“I know that,” she told him sharply. _I just wish you would appear less relieved about it_. She hadn’t quite meant to send it, but Avon’s rising eyebrows told her that she had. “I apologise. I am being foolish.” She extracted herself fully from Vila’s light hold and sat up straight on the edge of the bed. “Of course it would be for the best. Without the ability you will both be safer.”

If it hadn’t been the case, if there had been a way to keep them safe and telepathic, she might have begged Avon to return to Gamma Trios as soon as the Federation had gone, to get the ability back – though she wasn’t sure he would have done it, even then, even for her. For all that he had handled the telepathy well, by the end, and had understood its loss, he had considered it an unnatural state for himself. Telepathy was a tactical risk, for them, and the long-term effects unpredictable. Avon’s soft words, just now, only confirmed her impression.

Avon nodded, putting the towel aside. “Admirably rational; Orac would doubtlessly agree with you. Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, we aren’t all like Orac, are we?”

“Aren’t you?” Vila quipped, sitting up by Cally’s side, never quite touching. “We won’t think less of you if you’re sad, Cally. Some people…” he paused for effect, letting her guess _Tarrant?_ to a smirk from both men. “… have antiquated ideas about women and emotions, but Avon and me, we aren’t like that. We know you. Besides,” he added, sounding almost embarrassed, “I wanted to keep it too.”

“You did?” Avon asked, sounding genuinely surprised. He came over to sit in his chair, running a hand through his hair to tame it. “Why?”

“Made me feel safe,” Vila mumbled, “not being alone. I don’t like being on my own, either. But I’m not, am I?”

“No, you’re not,” Avon said quietly. “And neither are you, Cally.”

_Nor you, Avon_. She sent, knowing it to be the truth and what he needed to hear. She had not needed their telepathic communion to tell. Avon had been right – she had relied on her abilities too much. She held his gaze for a moment, sharing, without speech, without telepathy, a deep understanding. “Thank you,” she said finally, leaning gently into Vila, “thank you both.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed this little adventure! As ever, looking forward to your comments!


End file.
